


While We Have Breath

by rippedoutgrace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dean is confused a lot, F/F, F/M, Leviathan - Freeform, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, mentions of John and Mary Winchester - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:15:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1299643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippedoutgrace/pseuds/rippedoutgrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the world, Dean’s just trying to keep it together. There’s no winning this war, no happy endings, no possible scenario where the Leviathan are defeated and people are free again. All he can do is keep the ones he loves safe, raise a little hell while doing it, and maybe even find something he never thought he would - a good man to love.</p>
<p>My submission for the Dean/Benny Big Bang 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While We Have Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Time for some thank yous! Firstly to [Jane](http://violatinghazzasflannel.tumblr.com), my best friend and fantastic beta, you're incredible and I love you so, so much. Thank you for holding my hand throughout this entire process and for listening to me talk ad nauseam about every detail of this fic. It would be an unpresentable mess of self-indulgence without you. Love you, boo. 
> 
> An enormous thank you to [aspidoceleon](http://aspidoceleon.tumblr.com) for the beautiful artwork!! You've been wonderful and amazing and it's been such a pleasure to work with you. Tack så mycket, min kära. 
> 
> And many thanks to [Deb](http://starfrak.tumblr.com) for putting this challenge together! I started shipping these two because of you, so this fic really wouldn't have happened without you. Thank you!!
> 
> You can find [the masterpost on my blog!](http://theabaddons.tumblr.com/post/79267601996/dbbb2014) Enjoy!

 

***

Dean rests one hand lightly on the gun hanging by a strap around his shoulder, eyes open and watching for any disturbances in the woods beyond. His other hand itches to touch the thigh holster strapped around his right leg, but he resists. It’s brand new and well, maybe it makes him feel a little badass.

 

It’s not that he hates guard duty. He just hates doing it alone. The woods are beautiful in the daytime, but at night it’s just so damn lonely out here. It’s hard not to flinch at every leaf rustling in the darkness or _whoosh_ of an owl’s wings overhead.

 

A sound from the left puts him on alert, eyes scanning and ears straining. He lets out a short whistling birdcall, turning his head slightly to catch the response. Two notes, high then low echo back to him and he smiles, still standing on alert but allowing his heart to calm down. It’s just Dad.

 

Dean had almost started to worry, he can’t see his watch out here in the dark but he knows his own shift is nearly up. Dad left this morning with six others before Dean had the chance to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He peers out through the brush now, waiting to glimpse his dad’s familiar form. He catches Bobby trudging towards him, head uncharacteristically bowed and Dean knows. Something’s happened.

 

“Bobby?” Dean dares to call out, has to know what’s going on. The pinpricks of panic are starting to make their way down his spine, shivering a little despite the unseasonal warmth of the night.

 

Bobby doesn’t say anything until he’s right in front of Dean, shoulders slumped and yeah, Dean is officially panicked.

 

“Bobby? Where’s Dad? Where is everyone?” As soon as Dean gets it out, he spots another figure in the dark behind Bobby, his heart clenching in anticipation. The man draws closer and no, it’s just Victor. He walks by Dean and Bobby with an audible sigh and an awkward pat to Bobby’s shoulder. He pauses beside Dean and squeezes his right forearm, the pressure just barely making itself known to Dean’s consciousness, his head too full of the buzzing bees of worry and fear.

 

“Bobby,” Dean tries to make his voice come out hard and authoritative, like his Dad would, but he hears himself sound small and cautious. Weak.

 

“It was too much, son,” Bobby starts, then shakes his head. “Ambush. They knew we were coming. Son of a bitch!” he swears and moves to stride past Dean, but doesn’t get very far before he turns and pulls Dean into a hard hug. “I’m sorry, son. I’m sorry, Dean,” he whispers.

 

Dean feels his world crumbling.

 

 

***

The next few days are absolute chaos in the camp. Few people had even known about the raid and four important members of their leadership are now dead.

 

Dean still can’t believe it either, really. His dad was supposed to come right back. Quick and easy raid, back in time for dinner. And telling Sam had been the hardest thing he’d ever done.

 

Sam almost looked like he wanted to argue with Dean about it. Like it couldn’t be real and Dean was playing some sort of sick joke on him. Dean only wishes it was a joke. A huge cosmic joke and Dad would come trudging back through the door, wiping his boots off and asking Dean for a full report.

 

But it’s not a joke. It’s real.  

 

***

A couple of weeks later, Dean turns twenty-one. Sam wakes him up with a simple, “Happy birthday, man” and Bobby produces a warm beer from somewhere later that night and pats him sadly on the back.

 

During the day, most people around the camp remember and wish him well, but he doesn’t blame anyone who passes by him without a “Happy birthday, Dean.” He kind of wants to forget about it, too.

 

***

Dean wakes up shortly before sunrise exactly three months after Dad died and lies on his back staring for a long time, watching the sunlight creep further along the ceiling. He, Sam, and Dad had always shared the cabin ever since meeting up with the other survivors and it just feels different now. Like the entire room is holding its breath, waiting for him to come back, to fill the room again with his larger-than-life presence.

 

Dad was loud and brash and always so _big_ in Dean’s mind. Even when he finally hit his growth spurt and caught up to Dad in height, he could never match him in bulk. His absence left an enormous hole in Dean and Sam’s lives, but Dean thinks he might be feeling it more than Sam for some reason. He supposes it’s because Sam didn’t idolize the man the way Dean always had, and maybe that’s actually a good thing.

 

He walks around now trying to compensate for Dad being gone, forcing himself to stand taller, speak louder, be more, do more. _Be more like Dad_. But the funny thing is, no matter what Dean does, it always feels like wearing a coat that’s three sizes too big. It’s comforting for a while, feeling wrapped up in it and safe behind the layers, but it’s too much extra weight to wear. Too much and too ill fitting.

 

Dean wishes he didn’t feel like he needed to fill both roles because it is exhausting and he’s no good at being anything other than just Dean.

 

Dean Winchester, survivor and resident of The Compound. It’ll have to be enough for now.

 

The camp (Dad always called it The Compound, capital letters) had been a summer camp years ago, cabins and what was once the mess hall dilapidated nearly beyond repair. No match for John Winchester, of course. He and the others rebuilt the camp, sneaking into town for supplies whenever possible, but mostly working with what they could find. Cabin 8 had been a casualty, torn down to nothing for extra wood and nails.

 

Dean remembers how much trouble he and Sammy had gotten into when Dad caught them playing in the rubble pile, catching them by the collars and yanking them out. _You listen to me, Dean. You keep an eye out for Sammy. That’s your job now._

 

Dean spent most of that summer carting tools and making sure Sammy didn’t get underfoot. He had turned eight that May and Dean couldn’t find enough to do to keep him occupied. No one was allowed outside the perimeter of The Compound and now that all the rubble piles were off limits, there really wasn’t all that much to do.

 

Sam complained about the lack of TV and books. Dean complained about the lack of girls. Dad told them both to can it.

 

But it worked. Camp life wasn’t peaceful, exactly, but it wasn’t as bad as out there.

 

Now, though, it’s uneasy, to say the least. John had been the de facto leader for the last eight years and Dean can feel the tension running through The Compound. Late night whispers about what’s going to happen to them all. Privately, Dean thinks Bobby should take on the role, considering he’s been around the longest besides the Winchesters and people respect him, if not fear him as much as they did with John.

 

Dean rolls over onto his side, rubbing a hand over his face. Sammy’s still sleeping, mouth hanging open slightly and sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. The sight makes Dean snicker quietly while feeling overwhelmingly fond for his little brother.

 

He sits up, wincing at the squeaking mattress springs and checks to make sure it didn’t wake Sam up. Dad’s bed across from his and Sam’s is empty, bedding folded neatly at the end. Just waiting for him to come back. But he isn’t coming back, Dean has to keep reminding himself. Maybe it’ll become real if he thinks it enough. Maybe.

 

Dean gets up and grabs a jacket, his toothbrush and toothpaste, and slips on his boots. He closes the door quietly behind him and heads for the long trough with spigots that serves as the general wash area for the entire camp. Dean always tries to get there early to avoid the midmorning rush of thirty people cramming around ten spigots.

 

The running water had been thanks to a mechanical engineer who had escaped and found The Compound about two months after it all started and had made him instantly popular with everyone. Especially considering walking about a third of a mile to the lake at the edge of the camp had been the only way to get water. Yeah, Dean had liked the guy.

 

While brushing the taste of sleep from his mouth, Bobby comes up opposite of him and gives a gruff “mornin’”. Dean nods in acknowledgement before spitting in the trough and rinsing with good old running water. Whoever thought running water would be such a novelty?

 

“Meetin’ tonight, Dean.”

 

“Uh, okay,” he responds, unsure why he’s even being told. He’s attended meetings in the past, but they’re usually for “the grownups”, as Sammy calls them, because it’s mostly the men and women who keep The Compound going. And the ones who plan the attacks, like the one that just got his Dad killed.

 

“Think you should probably join us. Got a lot to talk about,” Bobby says, looking meaningfully at Dean.

 

“Sure, Bobby,” he agrees easily, though secretly praying to any higher power listening that they’re not planning another attack. After the last catastrophe, Dean isn’t sure he can handle it.

 

Bobby just nods and taps his toothbrush against the side of the trough, walking back to his cabin that he shares with Victor and Gordon. Dean shakes his head in confusion and turns when he hears the door creak open behind him. Sam stumbles out, yawning and reaching for the toothpaste. Dean leans against the trough watching Bobby’s cabin as if he’s going to come back out and explain himself, even though he knows he won’t.

 

“What’s happening today?” Sam mumbles around a mouthful of foam.

 

“Bobby says there’s a meeting tonight and I should go.”

 

Sam’s eyes widen a fraction before he turns to spit. “Why does he want you there?”

 

“I have no idea,” he replies honestly, then shrugs. “Let’s just go see if Ellen’s got breakfast yet.”

 

***

Dean winks at Jo and kisses Ellen’s cheek, dancing away before she can smack him with a spoon. “What’s for breakfast today, ladies?” he asks in his most charming voice. It’s a routine with them. Breakfast is the same every day, but Dean can’t resist asking anyway.

 

He notices Ellen’s smile isn’t as bright as usual and he leans closer. “What’s going on?”

 

She shakes her head and says almost offhandedly, “Just gonna need a supply run soon, that’s all.”

 

Sam pats her on the shoulder, clearly not paying attention, as he loads his plate with scrambled eggs and toast. “Looks great, Ellen,” he calls over his shoulder as he makes his way towards one of the long bench tables. Dean turns only long enough to see him sit down across from Jess, who tosses her long blonde hair over one shoulder and smiles at Sam. Dean huffs quietly. What on earth that pretty girl sees in his geeky brother, he’ll never know.

 

He faces Ellen again, who’s managed to put on a bland face and shoos Dean away with a small smile.

 

He spots Charlie’s bright red hair and moves to plop down next to her, still in her pajamas and blearily poking at her eggs. “Hey there, sleepy,” he nudges her repeatedly until she huffs and shoves him.

 

“Hey yourself. Did you see the new guy yet?”

 

Dean shakes his head. “I didn’t even know there was a new guy. Why doesn’t anyone tell me this stuff?”

 

Charlie shrugs a shoulder and takes a bite of her eggs. “He showed up late last night, but I think you were already up in your cabin. Heard he’s really dreamy. Hey, babe.”

 

Dean glances behind him to see Gilda coming around to Charlie’s other side, pressing a kiss to her forehead and sliding in gracefully. “Good morning, Dean,” she sing-songs, entirely too chipper for so early in the morning. But it’s impossible to hate Gilda, even if she is an early bird so he just smiles at her in response.

 

“I was just telling him about the new guy,” Charlie says into Gilda’s hair as she kisses her temple.

 

“Ohh, I was there when he showed up. Ash and I were on guard duty and nearly scared us to death. He almost got himself shot, actually,” Gilda tells him, delicately taking a bite of her toast and smiling indulgently when Charlie brushes a stray crumb from her lip.

 

Dean rolls his eyes. They’re really cute, and it’s annoying.

 

“New guy?” he prompts. They haven’t had any new survivors lately, so now he’s more than curious. “Who is he?”

 

“Mmm, he said his name was Castiel and he checked out okay.”

 

“Yeah, so he spent the night on Ellen’s floor,” Charlie interrupts, looking perkier all of the sudden.

 

“What?” Dean turns to glare at Jo for not telling him such important news, but she’s got her back to him. “Where is he now?”

 

As soon as he says it, Gilda waves a fine-boned hand to someone behind Dean’s right shoulder. “He’s coming over now, actually.”

 

Dean shifts around to get a good look at the guy sitting down across from them, nodding politely to Gilda. “Good morning,” he says, and _Jesus_ , did the guy gargle with gravel this morning?

 

“Castiel, this is my girlfriend, Charlie, and our friend, Dean,” Gilda gestures to each of them in turn.

 

“Hi, Castiel!” Charlie grins at him, and to his credit he doesn’t look at all taken aback by her enthusiasm.

 

Dean shoots his own grin at him. “Uh, hey Cas – uh, Casti _el_ ,” he stumbles a bit on the name. He frowns a little. “Yeah I’m gonna call you Cas. So uh, Cas, where you from?”

 

Cas chews on a bite of eggs for a moment, before fixing Dean with blue, blue eyes. “I was in Nebraska for the last few years, but my family is...” he trails off, eyes downcast.

 

They all nod understandingly. Everyone’s lost someone in this mess. Sometimes more than one someone, and whole families are wiped off the map every day. It’s been the condition of life for the last eight years.

 

Cas clears his throat, but it doesn’t make his voice any less growling. “I started wandering for a while, staying off the main roads and camping out. I actually came across your camp by accident. I was trying to avoid the highway and fell down a ravine.”

 

Gilda nods, like she knew this part already. Charlie raises a brow at her in question. “I took him to Victor to get his arm stitched up,” she explains.

 

“I couldn’t see well enough in the dark to climb back up so I just kept walking and here I am,” he finishes, rubbing a little at his forearm where Dean guesses his stitches are hidden under his sleeve.

 

Also damn that Victor for not telling him either. Is he the last person to know anything around here?

 

“Oh hey, man, who’s this?”

 

Sam and Jess are standing with their empty plates behind them, looking curiously at Cas. Dean smiles, a little smug. Apparently he’s not the _last_ person to know. 

 

***

He’s standing outside Bobby’s cabin in the dark, one foot on the wooden step, rocking back and forth. Yes, technically he was told to come to this meeting but he wasn’t sure what to expect on the other side of that door. He shifts his weight to move forward, finally deciding to just do it already, when Bobby slams open the door and startles him back two steps.

 

“Boy, get yer ass in here,” he grumbles at Dean. Adjusting his ever-present baseball cap, he turns back to head inside, muttering something that sounds like “damn idjit”.

 

 He sighs and steps inside. All the beds have been pushed to the side and he nods at everyone standing around, clearly waiting for him. He flushes and smiles a little sheepishly for keeping them, taking a spot next to Victor who’s sitting on his own bed.

 

“Alright,” Bobby begins, and the background noise and conversation dies down. “Now we all know why we’re here and we need to get this decided now.”

 

Dean looks up and shakes his head slightly. No. He has no idea why they’re all here and he’d really like to know. He nudges Victor. “Why _are_ we here, man?”

 

But Victor just shushes him and keeps his attention on Bobby who hasn’t stopped his speech yet. Which is when he hears Bobby drop the bomb.

 

“...so, I nominate Dean as the new leader.”

 

And, what the hell is happening here?

 

He looks around and to his horror, people seem to be _agreeing_ with Bobby. Victor pats him on the back and smiles at Dean. His smile drops a little when he sees Dean’s face though. “Hey, man, you okay?”

 

Dean abruptly stands and dislodges Victor’s hand in the process. “Okay, now just hold on a second,” he starts, only a touch on the hysterical side. He feels, rather than sees, Victor standing behind him.

 

“Now listen, Dean,” Bobby says in his be-reasonable voice. “You’ve been here longer than anybody, your daddy was the leader before you, and everyone would follow you.” As if on cue, he sees bobbing heads in agreement. He glares at Ellen and then at Victor. Then he sees Gordon sitting on his bed looking particularly unhappy about this turn of events and he clings to it.

 

“Gordon doesn’t seem to like it, huh man?”

 

But no one listens to him.

 

“Alright, Dean, do you accept the nomination?”

 

He’s not even processing all of this, and he hears Victor whisper in his ear, “Say yes.”

 

“Yes,” he says on reflex. “Wait! What?!” and he turns to shove at Victor, who catches his arm.

 

“Great, now all those in favor of Dean as our new leader, raise your hand,” Bobby intones, ignoring Dean’s wide-eyed panic.

 

Horrifyingly, he sees hands go up. Bobby, Ellen, Victor, Ash, more and more, until nearly every hand is raised. Except Gordon’s.

 

“Well, good. Majority rules. Glad that’s settled,” Bobby sounds relieved. Dean is most certainly not relieved. Dean can’t feel his legs. He needs to sit.

 

He sits on Victor’s bed, mostly ignoring those coming up to pat him on the back and offer words of encouragement or what-the-fuck-ever. When everyone but Victor and Bobby are gone, he glares at them both.

 

“Why’d you go and spring this on me?”

 

Bobby takes his hat off and rubs at his head. “Look, son, you know things haven’t been right since your daddy...” he trails off a little, looking at Dean. “Since your daddy,” he corrects. “People are getting antsy as hell, you know. It’s been months and we need a leader.”

 

“So why can’t you do it?” Dean asks, not a little petulantly.

 

This time, Victor’s the one that steps in. “We figured you’d say no,” he says simply. “We need a leader and Bobby...”

 

“And I can’t do it, son. I’ll be here with you every step of the way, but I’m not cut out for that job,” Bobby interrupts. To their credit, they both look apologetic about the situation but Dean’s head can’t take the tag-teaming, so he just nods miserably and lays back on Victor’s bed. He pretends not to see the look Bobby and Victor share before Bobby leaves his peripheral vision, and then he hears the door creak open and slam shut.

 

The bed shifts and groans under their combined weight as Victor settles next to him. “I don’t get it, man. Why me?” Even as he asks the question, he feels resigned to it. No less confused, of course, but resigned. Bobby brought up a serious point – they’d been leaderless for _months_ and when chaos is the norm, it’s too easy for everything to fall apart without someone there to keep it together.

 

Dean just doesn’t think he’s the right one. In fact, he is sure he’s not. He’s not qualified enough for this, and he’s about to say as much when Victor snorts quietly and then catches Dean’s eye. He rolls up onto one elbow and peers at Dean’s face alarmed.

 

“You’re kidding, right? You’re not kidding. Dean! Come on, you’ve got to know.”

 

“Know what?”

 

“You’re the best we have and everyone knows it. Even Gordon, okay, just ignore him. He knows it.”

 

“But I still don’t get why not Bobby, or even you!” Dean lets his head loll sideways. “Yeah, hey, why not you?”

 

“Look, you and Sam, you’ve been here since you were just kids. You were right there at the start of this thing and this place,” he gestures around them in a big waving arc, “it’s your home.”

 

“It’s your home, too. Isn’t it?”

 

Victor smiles a little sadly at him. “My home is out there, Dean. This place has been a refuge, don’t get me wrong, but when I think of home, it’s not out here in the back woods of Nowhere, Colorado.”

 

Dean just nods, not knowing what to say to that. Victor isn’t wrong. He was only twelve when it happened, the Leviathan taking over seemingly overnight. He was planning on asking Cassie Robinson to the middle school Valentine’s Day dance and he was walking her home after school when chaos broke out in the streets. He remembers pushing her towards her house and told her to stay inside as he took off running towards his own house.

 

He never saw her again. And when he got home...

 

He shivers involuntarily at the memory and Victor kindly doesn’t comment on it. Instead he lies back down next to Dean and sighs.

 

Dean pushes himself onto an elbow and looms over Victor, who just raises an eyebrow in response. “Want me to suck you off?”

 

That startles Victor into laughing and the somber mood is broken. “Always got a way with words, don’t you, Winchester?”

 

Dean just grins cockily and reaches for Victor’s belt buckle.

 

He’s warm and familiar and _safe_. As Dean swallows him down and eases back when Victor bucks his hips up, it’s easy to forget the last half hour didn’t happen. He loses himself in the sensation and the familiarity of Victor’s tells. The tightening of his belly and his thighs twitching around Dean’s ears, and Dean decides to swallow when he comes. Less mess.

 

“You’re too good at that,” Victor wheezes from above him, chuckling a little.

 

Dean carefully zips him back up and sidles up next to his lax body, lazily humping against his hip until Victor manages to roll over enough to get a hand around him.

 

He comes a few minutes later with a groan and a sigh, watching as Victor grabs a t-shirt off the ground to wipe his hand off.

 

“You’ll do good, Dean.”

 

“Hmm,” he grunts noncommittally. He has his doubts. He pats Victor’s belly teasingly as he gets up and stretches. “Goin’ to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

*** 

“New leader?” Sam echoes. “Are they sure? Are _you_ sure?”

 

They’re in their beds now, eyes adjusting to the dark as they face each other. Dean decided to wait to tell Sam until it was dark, a childhood habit they never outgrew. Back when they shared a bed, they’d curl against each other like commas and whisper in the dark until Dad told them to go to sleep. All their important secrets and conversations happened under the covers.

 

When Dean was fifteen and gave a new survivor a handjob behind the mess hall for the first time. He nearly cried telling Sam, worried about what Dad would say, and oh, he could imagine. But Sam told him it was none of Dad’s business, with all the authority his eleven-year-old voice could muster.

 

Or when Sam met the new girl, Jessica, last year, he waited until they were in bed to tell Dean. That was when Dean knew it was serious because the unspoken rule of bedtime talks was No Making Fun.

 

Survivors came and went. Some died on raids, some left on their own. But the only constant for Sam and Dean _was_ Sam and Dean.

 

When they outgrew the single tiny camp bed, they pushed their two beds closer together and it was almost the same.

 

“I don’t know, Sammy.” Dean chews on his lip as he thinks. “They all kept saying I was the only one who could do it. But.”

 

“But what?”

 

“I’m only twenty-one, man. I’m just –“ he stops in frustration. “I’m _nobody_ around here.” _What if I mess up? What if I’m not good enough?_

 

“You can’t be serious, Dean.” Sam levers himself up and Dean’s eyes have adjusted enough to see the honest surprise on Sam’s face. “You’re smart, Dean. You’re the best one to do the job.” He flops back down and sighs. “I’ll always believe in you. You’re my big brother.”

 

Dean doesn’t know how Sammy does that. Makes him believe everything’s going to be okay. That _they’re_ going to be okay. Even in this shitstorm of a world.

 

***

To absolutely no one’s surprise but Dean’s own, he is a good leader. He’s a good organizer and keeps everyone in check both in the camp and on missions. His age apparently only seems to bother him because no one else has a problem with it.

 

He finds a friend in Cas, too, who just happens to be an excellent strategist and helps plan out nearly every mission. He’s fearless and grows more comfortable with The Compound and the other survivors, even moving into Sam and Dean’s cabin, albeit briefly. He found one of the cabins of all girls more than happy to have him and he eventually only came around to the brothers’ cabin on occasion. 

 

Dean remembers his dad saying something once to him and Sammy that wartime is all about routine.

 

And this is their routine. Dean organizes food and supply runs bimonthly, taking volunteers for missions, working out strategy for raids with Cas and Bobby. It’s hard, but it’s fine. Manageable, even.

 

Dean doesn’t think about why it works so well until Sammy makes an offhand comment one day.

 

“It’s because everyone likes you, Dean. They trust you. It works because you don’t pretend to be above them or anything. You’re just doing what you have to do, just like them.”

 

“Doing what we have to do?”

 

Sam just shrugs, shaking his legs out in what Dean knows are growing pains. “We’re all just trying to survive, aren’t we?”

 

***

Dean’s a few months shy of his twenty-fourth birthday when things start getting get a little more exciting.

 

It starts like a normal day. Dean, Gilda, and Charlie head into town for a supply run and snag their updated papers from Frank, after suffering through a typically grouchy (and mostly incomprehensible) lecture, that is.

 

“The new papers have the little blue mark on the left corner, you see there? Old papers had the oval perforation, very hard to replicate and for which I don’t think you were ever appreciative enough, boy.”

 

Why Frank only ever scolds him, Dean will never know. And what the hell, he did thank Frank for those papers. Profusely, even. They leave Frank behind still muttering and cursing to himself. The old grouch.

 

They start with Main Street since most of the businesses there, at least those still run by humans, are friendly and supportive of the resistance. Gilda slips off to a secondhand clothing store as Dean and Charlie link arms and pretend to be in a deep conversation with each other. He feels Charlie squeeze his arm tightly when they see Gilda stopped by a police officer.

 

“Hey, she’s okay. She’s a brave girl, you got nothing to worry about,” Dean whispers. Gilda’s smiling sweetly at the Leviathan, handing her papers over without a fuss and the human-shaped Leviathan examines them closely.

 

He’s only saying that to keep Charlie from panicking since his words do nothing to soothe his own jackrabbit pulse. Dean can feel his own palms starting to sweat and tries to discreetly rub his free hand on his jeans. Charlie is still gripping his arm with bruising force, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell her to ease up. This is always a heart stopping moment for them, relying so fully on Frank to keep them in updated identification papers. They haven’t been caught yet, but who’s to say how long their luck will run?

 

“What if he...” Charlie starts, but sighs in relief when nothing happens and Gilda has her papers once again. The officer keeps walking down the street and Gilda catches their eye and nods once, stepping inside the store and disappearing from view.

 

“Come on, we’ve got a half hour before we have to meet up again,” Dean reminds her and tugs her along towards a restaurant that’s been helping them out for years. Dean’s looking forward to seeing Sophia again and he walks a little faster, laughing a little at Charlie trying to keep up. He remembers meeting the matronly proprietor with silver streaks in her hair when he was a kid with his dad doing these supply runs. She winked at Dean when his dad wasn’t looking and slipped him a cookie wrapped in a paper napkin. He saved it for Sammy, but the gesture meant more to him than she probably realized. That was a tough year for him. For them all, really. But the weight of his new life had hit him hard and left him reeling for a while.

 

The tinkling little bell above the door greets them and Charlie moves ahead to grab two stools at the counter. A small brunette with a nametag that reads “Ruby” slides in front of them and taps her pen on the counter.

 

“What can I get you two?”

 

Charlie opens her mouth to answer, but Dean cuts in over her. “We were wondering if Sophia was in today actually.”

 

Ruby’s eyebrows raise just slightly and it’s enough to set Dean’s warning bells off.

 

“Someone asking for Sophia?”

 

A big handsome bear of a man comes out from the kitchen wiping his hands on his apron, shooing Ruby away with a look. She shrugs a “whatever” and grabs two plates from the window and takes them to a table near the front. Dean’s only thought is _well, fuck me_. And then he realizes the man is speaking to them and his cheeks heat.

 

“Benny, “ the man says, and it’s obvious he’s said it at least once before and Dean sees his hand outstretched between them. Dean shakes it, embarrassed, and tips his head towards Charlie.

 

“Dean. This is Charlie. Sorry, but where’s Sophia?” He doesn’t like the way Benny is frowning confusedly at him.

 

“Soph’s been gone now for near two months,” Benny says, not unkindly. “Her daughter’s been runnin’ the joint since, but she’s not in today.”

 

Dean just nods in response. Death is hardly uncommon nowadays, but it doesn’t hurt any less when it’s someone you know. He clears his throat a couple of times before he can get the words out. “Well, then we should get out of here, right, Charlie? Nice to meet you, man,” Dean tells him while grabbing at Charlie’s jacket sleeve.

 

He’s more than a little surprised when Benny comes around the counter to corner them and whispers softly near his ear, “I know who you are.” But before Dean even has time to panic at that ominous statement, he continues. “Soph told me ‘bout you and your resistance. Her daughter still wants to help you and so do I.”

 

“We need food,” Dean murmurs back, accidentally leaning too close and brushing his lips across the shell of the man’s ear. They both ignore their mutual involuntary shiver.

 

Benny nods and straightens up. “Same routine?”

 

Dean nods and pulls Charlie along, whispering a quiet, “Thank you.” Sophia and John first started the plan. She’d put food in plain bags and leave them in the back in an marked garbage can, and someone from the camp would sneak in to take them later that night after she’d closed up the place. Anyone passing by would think it was just someone hungry enough to go digging through the trash for thrown-out food. Or that was the hope, at least.

 

The bell tinkers merrily after them and Dean turns around to catch a last glance of the man, _Benny_ , only to find him staring back at Dean.

 

***

They meet Gilda in the secondhand store, dodging two “police officers” by walking through the small park in the center of the square instead of around it. Jackie acknowledges them with a tiny smile from behind the register when they walk in and jerks her head towards the back, presumably where Gilda is.

 

Dean likes her, likes how strong Jackie is. Her husband was killed in the uprising last spring but she keeps helping Dean and the resistance out by letting them skim off the top of any donations she gets. Dean liked her husband, too, but no use dwelling on that. It is what it is.

 

He nearly trips over Gilda and Charlie who are now kneeling on the floor behind a rack of blouses. “Dean, look,” Gilda motions him down and he rolls his eyes and he collapses none too gracefully onto his knees.

 

Gilda’s got a pile going of men and women’s clothing and she’s folding them carefully after marking on a small notepad what’s what. “Jackie got a bunch of sweaters in last week, which will come in handy.” She pauses to check the tag of a pair of jeans and marks it down.

 

Charlie pipes in, “Yeah, I doubt this weather will last much longer. It’ll be fall soon and it’s gonna get cold.”

 

Dean just nods. Fall means colder weather but it’s what comes after that’s hard. Winter is always especially difficult in The Compound, and it’s not like they have an endless supply of electricity and heat. Their lone generator does all right, but it’s not fantastically reliable. Fires have to be kept to a minimum, too. The smoke is just too risky, too easily seen during the daytime.

 

“Okay, I’m gonna go arrange the pickup with Jackie. You almost finished here, Gil?”

 

She hums in agreement and stands up, holding a hand against her back. “Ugh, I’ve been on the floor for too long. But I’ll just get these to the back room and meet you up front. You coming, babe?”

 

She and Charlie each grab a pile of clothes and Dean catches Jackie at the hat table.

 

“Same as usual?” he asks her. “I’m not sure who’s doing the pickup tonight, but we’re doing a full run around town so it might be me or Cas. Maybe Bobby.”

 

“That’s fine, I’ll pack them into two bags so you won’t have much to carry. Oh hey, Dean, I got something in just after you were here last and I’ve been keeping it for you. Looked about your size.”

 

Dean’s curious and a little pleased as he follows her to behind the counter. She reaches down to the last small shelf under the register and pulls out a plastic bag. Dean dumps it on the counter and shakes it out. It’s a leather jacket.

 

A really nice leather jacket. Nicer than anything he’s ever owned, that’s for sure. It actually reminds him a little of his dad’s old one, but it’s got this cool dark red undertone to it and tons of pockets and he immediately loves it. He tells Jackie as much as he slips it on. “Perfect fit. Thank you, Jackie. No, really,” he cuts in over her forming protests. “We’d all be running around naked if it wasn’t for you... and Tim.” His mention of her husband dims her smile a little, but she rallies back.

 

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we? I’ll pack up the clothes and leave ‘em out back for you.”

 

Dean’s not sure what it is about the jacket, but he stands a little taller, walks a little more confidently with it on. And pointedly ignores the girls’ catcalls when as he ushers them out of the store with a final wave to Jackie.

 

He definitely doesn’t strut through The Compound the rest of the day wearing his jacket.

 

(He does.)

 

***

They have to wait until just before curfew to make the run. After curfew, there are too many Leviathan police officers looking to pick up (or worse, eat) a violator, but too early will be broad daylight and too many people around. Timing has become an artform with them.

 

Dean and Victor draw the short straws and they get into the decade-old Jeep that someone had brought in a long time ago. Dean doesn’t remember who it was or why they left it, but the Jeep is handy for making these supply runs. Once when he was a kid, his dad let him tag along and it had been exciting up until they had to haul the heavy bags back to The Compound on foot. He couldn’t even complain about it either, since he’d all but begged his dad to take him.

 

They don’t say much on the ride to town. Comfortable silence, though. Dean likes driving and Victor always lets him take the wheel whenever they pull supply run duty together.

 

Dean cuts the headlights once they get close to town and keeps the engine revving to a minimum. They’re probably going to get stopped by Leviathan anyway, but no need to invite them over. He keeps his driving steady and as inconspicuous as possible, making turn after turn and coming to a quiet stop behind the restaurant and out of view from the street.

 

Victor hops out before Dean kills the engine and folds his identification papers into his back pocket. “How do you wanna do it?”

 

Dean slides out and checks his watch— 7:37 and curfew is at 8, so they have plenty of time to grab and dash.

 

“I’ll come around the end of the street in seven minutes. You hop in and we’ll blow this joint.”

 

Victor just nods and takes off towards the street, walking fast enough to be going somewhere but not enough to draw attention to himself. Dean opens the rear door of the Jeep and then finds the garbage can marked with a small white cross near the bottom. It takes him a second to find it, bending down to look closely at the base of each can and wishing he had a flashlight. What he doesn’t expect is for someone to call softly, “Hey, Dean, right?” from over his left shoulder.

 

He startles so badly he knocks a can over but catches it as it starts to fall. His heart is pounding and he glances behind him to see an equally startled Benny with wide eyes and a nervous glance towards the street. “Sorry, brother. Didn’t mean to sneak up on ya.”

 

Dean lays a palm on top of one of the lids and lets the feel of the cool metal calm him down. He speaks without looking at Benny, “It’s okay, I just, uh, didn’t expect you. To be here, I mean.” He frowns a little and turns to face him. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

 

Benny shrugs and looks a little sheepish. “Wanted to talk to you actually. I was hopin’ it’d be you making the grab,” he says waving in the general direction of the garbage cans.

 

“Uh, okay. What’s up?” Dean asks, but he already knows what’s coming. Benny has that _look_. He’s seen it too often before.

 

Benny glances down, rocks back on his heels. Dean waits.

 

“I gotta get out of here, brother. Was hopin’ to tag along tonight, head back to your camp with ya.” He clears his throat quietly. “You might have heard, but another uprising is gonna happen soon around here.”

 

Dean didn’t know actually. He and The Compound don’t have a whole lot of contact with the town beyond these supply runs, and he shivers a little and not just because the air is a little chillier at night.

 

Uprisings are bloody. They’re messy and dangerous and Leviathan crack down hard afterwards. Despite the inevitable body count, Dean quietly cheers them on. Can’t let those sons of bitches get too complacent. Can’t let them think they’ve won. He doesn’t blame the people at all. Just hopes some of those evil bastards go down, too.

 

Benny looks so damn hopeful, though, and Dean hopes his face shows how truly sorry he is by what he has to say.

 

“I can’t do that, man. It’s the rules,” he says hastily at Benny’s resigned look. “But, listen, okay?” he steps closer to Benny, close enough to touch, and he tries not to be endeared by the sliver of hope reemerging in Benny’s eyes. “It’s the rules that I can’t take anyone with me. It’s not my rule, you get me? My old man put it in place and it’s a good rule. I can’t just go messing with the rules, especially if they ain’t broke.”

 

Benny nods slowly, “Okay... I hear what you’re sayin’, but what do I...”

 

“You’ve gotta find us,” Dean interrupts. “It cuts down on liability for the camp. If you get caught, it’s on you and you can’t tell them where we are, you see. We’re always happy to take people in, but you just have to find us first.”

 

He grabs Benny’s shoulder and it surprises himself as much as it does Benny. He’s not usually one for casual touches like this, but he finds he can’t let go just yet. He likes how warm and solid Benny is under his wool coat. He steps back when he realizes that it’s gone on a little too long with a quiet cough and a blush on his cheeks.

 

“Gotta get going,” he says and Benny gives him a half smile and tips his hat. They each take a bag from the can and lay them as flat as possible on the floorboards in the back. Careful observation over the years points to any vehicle searches Leviathan make are usually aimed towards the trunks of cars with little care for what’s in the backseat. It’s a laziness that works well in their favor.

 

Dean gets in the driver’s seat and cranks down the window. “I’ll see you soon, then?”

 

“I’ll be seein’ you, brother,” he agrees with a small smile.

 

Dean reverses and drives back the way he came, watching Benny get smaller in the rearview mirror. He hopes he sees him soon.

 

One minute later and Victor’s in the passenger seat and bags of folded clothes are lying on top of the food bags. They roll to a stop behind a few other cars trying to leave Main Street. Victor shifts a little to reach in his pocket and pulls out his papers. Dean reaches into one of his (many) pockets for his and they crawl their way through the checkpoint.

 

They glance at each other and plaster bland faces on as they get to the front of the line. Dean holds out their papers to the officer standing with a flashlight. The Leviathan barely scans the papers and shoves them back at Dean, pausing his conversation with the other officer only to tell Dean, “You’re almost past curfew.”

 

Dean tries to look apologetic and grates out a “yes, sir,” the words feeling slimy in his mouth. His dad drilled into him the importance of respect and he’d never had any trouble yessirring his dad or even Bobby, but saying it to those ugly sons of bitches, faking a nonthreatening smile and a respectful attitude to the very _things_ that caused this mess never fails to sicken him.

 

Victor just looks at him knowingly. Sometimes the guy is too perceptive for his own good.

 

***

Two weeks pass. He knows Sam noticed and Cas probably, too, but he can’t help looking anxiously towards the woods. Willing Benny to appear. To find their hidden gate and pass the Borax test and live here with them.

 

He couldn’t explain it even if he tried. He just. Wants.

 

And that’s a dangerous thing to do.

 

***

 He and Cas are in Bobby’s cabin, looking at a hand drawn map of the surrounding area and roads. They’re planning a raid, this time to sabotage the transport carrying weapons for the Leviathan.

 

The Leviathan call it riot control. Dean calls it murdering humans.

 

It’s an important one, has to be perfectly timed to take out the convoy and its drivers. They have to unload the weapons quickly and then blow the trucks, all while intercepting them far away enough so that The Compound isn’t in danger of being found. It’s a lot of details to go through and they have to be precise.

 

“Cas, have you heard from Ash about the explosives yet? He and Gordon were supposed to be working on them.”

 

Cas shakes his head, “Nah, but I can go check on it. I saw Ash in Ellen’s cabin a little earlier.”

 

He’s not gone but twenty seconds before he swings the door open again. “Dean? You better get out here.”

 

Dean and Bobby frown at each and then Cas as they hustle towards the door, Dean stopping only to grab his gun and slide it into the holster still clipped around his thigh. When he gets outside, the slight feeling of panic that had been building eases and he smiles widely. “Benny! Man, you made it. Finally!”

 

Benny grins at him wearily and returns Dean’s back slapping hug. “Good to be here, brother.” He sounds so tired, Dean thinks. Then he remembers why Benny wanted to join them anyway and wonders if the uprising has happened yet. He makes a note to ask Benny about it later, but for now there’s a crowd around them.

 

Dean motions at the gathering people. “Guys, this is Benny. He’s from town.” He looks at Benny and grins, “We’ll get you introduced to everyone individually soon.”

 

“Who’s the girl?” someone from the crowd asks, he thinks it might have been Jo. Wait, girl? He looks around for her and Benny holds an arm out. A somewhat familiar-looking dark headed girl comes around from behind him, holding a backpack in front of her. Dean can’t place her right away, but he’s seen her recently.

 

“You’re... Ruby? Right?” Dean asks. He raises an eyebrow at Benny, who has the good grace to look at least a little embarrassed.

 

“I made it out of town and she followed me. Didn’t even know it until she cracked a twig out in the woods. I couldn’t send her back,” he explains, willing Dean to understand with upturned hands.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, it’s fine. Welcome to The Compound, you guys. We’ll get you set up and someone will give you the grand tour of the place. Sound good?”

 

They both nod and Dean quirks the corner of his mouth up. “I’m, uh, glad you made it, man.” He’s surprised by how much he means it, which seems to be a thing now. Heartfelt genuineness isn’t something Dean Winchester is known for, but he can’t help it around this guy. Maybe it’s the leather jacket. He has been feeling a little more confident lately...

 

He walks backwards, keeping eye contact with Benny until Ruby huffs, annoyed, and shoves past them, muttering, “Ridiculous, honestly.”

 

Dean can feel his cheeks start to heat up so he waves in what he hopes is a casual manner and turns to head back into Bobby’s cabin. He nearly runs right into Cas, who just smirks at him.

 

“What?”

 

Cas doesn’t reply but does laugh a little conspiratorially and says something about “telling Charlie”. Dean rolls his eyes and shoves him inside.

 

“Whatever, dude. We’ve got work to do.”

 

 

***

Dean doesn’t see Benny for a few days after that. The raid is coming up and Dean’s preoccupied, always either in Bobby’s cabin poring over maps and checking weapons or in his cabin with Sam.

 

After Dad, they made it a point to spend time together before something dangerous happens. It was an unspoken decision between them, not discussed exactly, but even if it was just hanging out in the cabin not saying much to each other, they were adamant about doing it.

 

Today they’re cleaning the cabin, which Sam is complaining about, but Dean doesn’t mind all that much. He likes keeping their living space clean and orderly, helps him think clearer and puts him in a better mood. Go figure, really.  Dean can’t do anything about the bigger picture, people are dying every day all over and Leviathan still run everything with an iron fist, so being able to keep his room in order gives him some semblance of control.

 

And of course, without it, he and Sam will unfailingly get into a fight about Dean tripping over Sam’s enormous shoes lying in the doorway or something equally dumb that neither of them even want to fight about.

 

Dean’s sweeping and humming under his breath, while Sam strips the beds. “What are you humming?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, uh, _Hey, Jude_.” Dean stops sweeping and glances up at Sam, who, despite the fact he’s nearly outgrown Dean, looks for all the world like a sad puppy. “Sorry, man. I can stop, I just hadn’t realized I was even doing it.”

 

“No, no, it’s okay. It’s. Nice,” Sam bites his lip and the atmosphere in the room gets a little heavier.

 

Dean drags the broom over the floor a couple of times before he starts speaking again. “Mom would sing it sometimes, you know.”

 

Sam did know, they both did. They didn’t talk about their mom often, but Dean felt it was important, couldn’t let her memory pass. Dean knew her longer, until he was nearly thirteen, and it was his job to tell Sammy about her.

 

“She had blond hair and she, she was beautiful.” Sam nods, and Dean feels his throat closing up, something that always happens when he tries to talk about her. He can feel Sam waiting for him to continue, but he just can’t. Not today.

 

He sings instead, hopes it’s enough. _Hey, Jude. Don’t be afraid._

 

*** 

The raid goes off with minimal problems. It’s all been planned, down to the second, and they watch from under the bushes as the two trucks drive by. The first truck passes by Dean’s head, just out of arm’s reach and he waves two fingers towards the road and waits for the shots.

 

Regular bullets, of course, do absolutely nothing to a Leviathan, except make it mad. But that’s what they’re counting on today as Dean counts the four shots off and springs from the bushes, followed closely by Cas and Ash. Bobby and Gordon have each hit a tire on the trucks, flattening them enough to bring them to a halt on the wooded road, and Victor fired at the two drivers. And predictably, the Leviathan are getting out of the vehicles, heads thrown back ready to feed.

 

Dean can never get over how goddamn ugly they are in their true forms, all jagged teeth and gaping maws, forked tongues slithering in the air. He sneaks up behind one approaching Victor to sever its head with his machete and then kicks the head away from the body.

 

“We’ve got a head!” he calls, hoping someone will make sure head and body stay detached. They learned that lesson the hard way after they let their guards down once and lost a member of their team when it resurrected itself, hideously grinning in amusement over its party trick before attacking again.

 

Bobby and Cas have the second Leviathan pinned down, dousing it with Borax when it starts to fight back. Its screams are grating and Dean just wants it to stop, all of it to stop.

 

“Take care of that one, will ya?” he mutters to them, and then goes off looking for Ash.

 

He finds him laying on his back under the first truck and taps his foot with his boot. “You almost ready, Ash? We’ve gotta get movin’ here.”

 

Ash pokes out a thumbs up from under the chassis and Dean tells him three minutes.

 

Three minutes and thirty seconds later, they’re in the woods, far enough away from the blast to hear it but not feel the impact. Everyone’s carrying the weapons from the trucks and grinning a little manically.

 

It’s a good day when a raid goes right, whenever they can throw a wrench in the well-oiled machine that is the Leviathan.

 

And this was an important one, keeping these riot control guns and ammunition out of their hands gives civilians more of a fighting chance. And that makes it a good day for everyone.

 

***

The next morning, Dean and Sam are play-bickering and tussling with each other on the way to the mess hall. They keep it up for so long, it isn’t until Dean is being handed a plate full of food that he realizes it’s not Ellen behind the counter. It’s Benny.

 

“Hey. Um, I mean, good morning,” he stutters a little and Sam, the jerk, takes the opportunity to steal a piece of Dean’s bacon from his plate.

 

Benny just smiles. “Good mornin’ yourself, Dean.” Dean does not shiver under the warmth of Benny’s smooth honey drawl. He doesn’t (he does).

 

“So, Ellen’s got you working the kitchen, huh?”

 

“More like I volunteered, really,” he says, adding an extra piece of bacon to Dean’s plate with a quick wink. “It’s exactly what I was doin’ out there, but in here... I’m free to do it.”

 

They’re interrupted by Jo when she pinches Dean _hard_ on the soft inside of his arm, and looks thoroughly unapologetic when Dean flinches and some of his eggs fly off his plate onto the ground. He glares at her, more upset about the eggs than the pinch.

 

“The hell, Jo _anna_?” He rubs his arm and blinks at Benny in mock pain. “She’s wounded me, man. I can’t go on!” He faceplants dramatically into Jo’s hair and she shoves him off, trying to keep from laughing.

 

“Stop it, I’m mad at you.”

 

“At me? What for? Oh, you didn’t have to...” The last part he directs at Benny, who’s just replaced Dean’s fallen eggs and Dean knows he’s blushing, can feel the heat in his cheeks. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

 

“Get a room already,” Jo huffs at them and rolls her eyes when they both look surprised. “Whatever. You were supposed to tell me about the raid last night. It’s not fair I can’t even go with you, but you can’t keep me in the dark.”

 

“Um,” Dean says intelligently, synapses still misfiring following her “get a room” comment. “It was fine?”

 

“Fine? _Fine_?” She’s starting to edge into pissed off territory and he backtracks quickly.

 

“We ganked the sons of bitches, blew the trucks, brought back the weapons. Uhh...” he racks his brain for something more to tell her. “Gordon walked through some poison ivy, I think.”

 

She stares at him for a long uncomfortable moment before laughing shrilly. “Seriously? I can’t wait to go with you guys. Soon.” She spins on her heel and heads back into the kitchen. Dean’s still feeling a little uncomfortable by the way she said “soon”. Like a statement, not a question.

 

He turns to find Benny staring contemplatively at him. “What?”

 

“I’d like to go on a raid soon myself.”

 

“Well, we’ll have to get you trained up first. Get you all up to speed on everything Leviathan,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows ridiculously. His chest feels warm when Benny laughs at his antics, despite the serious subject matter.

 

“Alright, brother. Sounds good.”

 

“Hey,” Dean calls before Benny can get too far away towards the back kitchen. “Do you, uh, maybe want to have breakfast with me?”

 

Something flickers over Benny’s face too quick for Dean to catch. “I’ve gotta...” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder and Dean understands.

 

“Right! Right, sorry, that was dumb. You have to work. Right. Um, that’s great! Fine. Good.” He’s internally smacking his forehead with his palm. He actually _can_ speak English, though apparently you wouldn’t know it whenever he’s around Benny.

 

“Hell, boy, what are you stutterin’ about?” Ellen says from behind Benny. She tilts her head up at Benny and then eyes Dean. “You can take a break. Me and Jo can handle the stragglers, and we’ll just need you back for cleanup.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Benny replies, smiling. “I guess I can have breakfast with you, Dean.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Good,” he teases back, Southern accent caressing over Dean’s red-tipped ears.

 

***

Dean finds out that Benny is from somewhere deep in Louisiana, but lived on a boat until about five years ago.

 

“Such a pretty sloop, she was. Things weren’t so bad at first, you know, and I was down in the Gulf with... with some people and we just went radio silence and no one knew we were out there. We drifted too close to shore though one night and the “Coast Guard” found us. Sunk the boat.” He shakes his head as if to clear it.

 

Dean can’t imagine. Thinking you’re safe in the middle of nowhere only to find yourself in the hands of Leviathan.

 

“But you made it to shore,” he prompts.

 

“I made it to shore,” Benny agrees. “Me and a couple others, clingin’ to some floating debris. Was terrified we’d run into sharks the entire time,” he chuckles, and Dean chuckles too even though it’s not funny. He hadn’t even considered sharks and now it’s all he can think about. “We washed up on shore down near Corpus Christi and we hiked.”

 

Dean raises his eyebrows. “From Texas? That’s a pretty far hike, man.”

 

“Texas wasn’t too bad. It took us a little over a year to make it to Colorado because we took our time, avoided them where we could.” He shrugs as if people go walking through one end of Texas to the other all the time. Dean was in seventh grade geography before it all happened and he remembers enough from the large map of the country hanging in the classroom that it’s no mean feat.

 

“Wow, so, why Colorado?”

 

“Why not Colorado?” Benny laughs, but it’s tinged with sadness. Dean can guess why. After all, it’s just Benny here. Except Ruby.

 

“Oh, so was Ruby one of yours, then?”

 

“Ruby? No, I met her when I started working at Sophia’s. She’s alright, though.”

 

Unbidden, Dean’s eyes sweep the mess hall looking for her and he spots her sitting next to his brother. Well, that’s peculiar. He wonders for a moment where Jess is but Benny clears his throat and pulls Dean’s attention back.

 

“I should get back in there and help Ellen with the cleanup,” he says, though Dean thinks he looks genuinely sorry to go.

 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you later?”

 

Benny smiles and squeezes his shoulder as he leaves, waving once from the kitchen door before it swings closed.

 

Cas slides into the seat Benny was occupying and stares at Dean with those too blue eyes. “So. Benny.”

 

“Huh? What, Cas?”

 

Cas just nods once like he’s confirmed something and leaves Dean bewildered in his chair. Dean watches as he doesn’t skip away, but very near to it, and catches Charlie exiting the mess hall. They whisper furiously together, glancing at Dean.

 

He shoots them a middle finger and they laugh like the children they obviously are. He still has no idea what’s going on either. Why does it feel like everyone knows something he doesn’t?

 

***

“You ate breakfast with him!”

 

He’s in the cabin Charlie, Gilda, and Jess share, though Jess is missing. “She’s on guard duty tonight,” Gilda informs him when he asked.

 

“I eat breakfast with you all the time,” he offers, still confused.

 

“But I’m not an available manly man who looks at you like the sun’s shining out of your ass.”

 

“I... There are so many things wrong with that statement, Charlie. Namely...”

 

“Namely, I’m right. And Gilda agrees. And so does Cas!”

 

“I eat breakfast with Victor, too,” he counters, feeling smug.

 

Charlie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, and everyone around here knows what you and Victor used to do.”

 

Gilda pokes her tongue against her cheek obscenely and Dean nearly falls off the bed he’s perched on. “Gilda! Jesus!”

 

She shrugs a delicate shoulder and smiles serenely. “Well, I’m not wrong, am I?”

 

“I hate both of you.”

 

“He likes you, you know.” Charlie scootches forward until her bent criss-crossed knees bump against Dean’s leg folded underneath him.

 

“How do you know?” Dean grumps, feeling cornered but strangely hopeful at the same time.

 

Charlie and Gilda look at each other, then Dean, and back at each other. And then burst out laughing.

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Charlie wheezes.

 

“Okay, you two have fun with whatever it is you do, and no, I _don’t_ want to know, but I’m going to bed.” He leaves them falling over each other howling like monkeys.

 

***

The next day, Dean and Benny are scheduled for guard duty together from late afternoon to mid-evening. Dean figures Benny knows where the gate is since he came through it not too long ago and heads out a little early.

 

Ash and Gordon are standing with their backs to Dean as he approaches, hears them squabbling as he gets closer.

 

“... and I’m just saying it’s a little weird, that’s all.”

 

“Ash, shut _up_ already,” Gordon growls at him and Dean can tell Ash has probably been talking nonstop for their entire rotation. He steps hard on a few dry twigs and calls out, not wanting to startle them.

 

“What’s a little weird?”

 

Ash waves a hand and pulls it towards his body in a dramatic gesture. “ _Gordo_ here doesn’t agree, but I think we’re being watched.”

 

Of all the things Ash could say, that was definitely not on Dean’s radar. He’s immediately on high alert, rifle raised and scanning the woods. “Ash,” he hisses. “Are you fucking serious? Where? Did you see them?”

 

“Not out _there_ ,” he replies. “ _In here_.” He turns Dean around to face The Compound, even though they’re far enough into the woods that the low buildings can’t be seen from here.

 

“And here we go again,” Gordon mutters. “And quit calling me ‘Gordo’, you freak.” With that, he heads back to The Compound, leaving Dean’s skin crawling and Ash talking to no one in particular.

 

“Ash, what do you mean ‘in here’?” He lowers his voice and steps closer. “How did Leviathan get in here? Who is it?”

 

“I didn’t say it was Leviathan.”

 

“But –“

 

“Everythin’ alright, fellas?”

 

They turn to see Benny about ten feet away, rifle slung across his broad shoulders. Ash salutes him and pats Dean on the back. “See you boys, later!”

 

“Ash! Damn it, Ash!” Dean calls after him, a little panicked. But Ash is nearly out of sight already. “Son of a bitch.”

 

“You okay, Dean?”

 

“Fine,” he grunts, then sighs. It’s not Benny’s fault Ash is being a cryptic asshole. “Okay, so first guard duty, right? Come on and I’ll show you around.”

 

They spend the first hour walking the perimeter of the camp. He explains to Benny as they walk what it was like when they first found it. The whole place had been abandoned for at least a few years, disuse and lack of care beginning to show in the buildings, but it was lucky for them because the tall chain-link fence that surrounded the entire camp had been overgrown with bushes and trees with no one around to keep it tame.

 

You almost couldn’t even see it unless you were right up next to it. Unless you were looking for it.

 

He points out the main entrance and Benny recognizes it as the place he came in through. “Smart of y’all to cut those trees down over the road,” he remarks. “Was a bitch of a time tryin’ to get over them though.”

 

Dean grins. That had been his idea and he tells Benny as much. He’d been so proud that his dad listened to his suggestion, even though he’d only been thirteen. “Yeah, it’s so you can’t drive right up to The Compound, you know? This used to be a summer camp for kids, I guess, and the parents probably could drive to the middle and pick them up or drop them off.” He shrugs and kicks at the dead leaves surrounding their feet.

 

Sometimes he thinks it would have been fun to go to a summer camp like this. Back when it was free and full of kids and life. Back before everything.

 

“You’ve got a Jeep though, right? How do you get that out of here?”

 

“Service road near the back end of the lake. It’s small though, only wide enough for one vehicle and it’s damn near impossible to see from the main road.” Which is true. Dean’s missed the turnoff more than once, and he grew up here.

 

They circle the camp a few more times, Dean pointing things out along the way. At first, it was all practical stuff – the corner area where they often see deer to shoot, the small gatehouse full of extra containers of Borax – then he starts in on more personal anecdotes.

 

“This is where Sam ran away to when he was twelve after he and my dad had a fight. He climbed up this tree here and wouldn’t come down for like, half a day.”

 

“You see how the fence is all out of whack here? I still don’t know how he did it, but this is where Cas came in through. Nearly got himself shot, too. Scared Gilda to death and Ash still teases them both about it.”

 

He takes Benny down a sharp right and shows him the small creek that runs through a ridge in the ground. “My dad used to come out here a lot. Always find him standing here, looking at the water.” He doesn’t tell Benny, but one of his fondest memories of his dad happened here. He’d been fourteen or fifteen and found Dad toeing at a clump of mud on the edge of the water. Dad put his arm around Dean’s shoulder and they stood there quietly, not saying anything, just listening to the melody of the katydids. It was the most normal moment they’d had since coming to The Compound.

 

“What about you?” Benny asks after about the tenth thing Dean’s pointed out.

 

“What about me?”

 

He motions around as they pause by the boulder Dean caught Charlie and Gilda making out on this one time. Charlie had been so surprised she fell off of it and Dean laughed at her until his sides ached.

 

“I like hearing about them, Dean, but what about you? You grew up here, too, didn’t you?”

 

Yeah, he did. This place has been a home, a refuge for most of his life. They watch two squirrels chase each other up and down a tree trunk as he thinks. Benny’s quiet and when he turns, he finds Benny watching him more than the squirrels.

 

He blows out a breath and quirks a sad smile at Benny. “There’s something I haven’t shown you yet.”

 

He takes him around the camp perimeter again, but turns left towards the short end of the lake, under a shaded copse about a hundred feet from the shore. She doesn’t need any words of introduction.

 

She’s dirty, bent, broken. Her driver’s side door is missing, the back side doors hanging on by a hope and prayer, the front windshield shattered. She’s still the most beautiful thing Dean’s ever seen.

 

“She was my dad’s car, but for a while we were living in her. Before we found The Compound, at least.”

 

“What happened to her?” Benny runs a hand over her caved in roof, dipping and buckling in places. Dean stands on the other side and does the same. Feels the ice-cold metal and it warms him, the memories of her.

 

“She’s a classic, ya know? But she’s just really impractical here. You could hear her coming from a mile away, and she’s not exactly the type to blend in.” Which Dean loved about the Impala. “Here, look.”

 

He points out his initials along with Sam’s carved into the siding, wriggles a hand to the back door to jiggle the army man still in the ashtray. Still stuck.

 

“We came here just after it all started. My mom, she, uh, was killed during the first wave of attacks.” He has to stop for a minute, memories threatening to overcrowd his brain. He can still feel the heat of the flames, hear his dad screaming ‘Mary!’ over and over again. Can still feel Sammy gripping him tightly, sobs shaking his small body.

 

He’d never been so scared before. Not for himself, really, but for Sammy, for his mom. He remembers running, dodging cars and people, and then the sickening sound of a crash. An explosion shaking the ground. “It was a fire. You know, they – the Leviathan – just kept _coming_ and they looked like people and everyone was confused, just running around and screaming. I was on my way home from school, maybe two blocks away from the house and I couldn’t see it happening.

 

“I’m not sure what happened really. Someone trying to escape I guess and he lost control of his truck. Plowed right into the house and by the time I got there, the gas tank exploded.” They’re not supposed to stop on guard patrol, but Dean collapses on a fallen log and has to just sit for a moment. Benny sits beside him quietly, close enough to feel the warmth from his body.

 

“I can’t imagine,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry, brother.”

 

“My dad threw us into the car and we busted ass outta Kansas. Took us days to get from Lawrence to Colorado, but my dad figured the mountains would be safer than the flats of Kansas, you know,” He motions to the Impala. “Poor girl’s not the offroading type, but we stayed out of sight for a while, back roads mostly. We found the campground and others came and we just stopped. The Impala was out of gas and we pushed her out here.” He laughs softly. “I used to come out here all the time, but I haven’t in years. I – I’m not sure why I showed you.”

 

He rubs the back of his neck, eyebrows knitted together. Why did he show Benny the Impala? He doesn’t even think Cas knows about her, though Charlie might. Victor does because he stumbled across Dean while on guard duty and Dean was reclined on her trunk reading. Back when privacy was a laughable concept and his dad was still around.

 

He stands suddenly and jerks his head to the side. “Come on, we’ve gotta keep movin’ along.”

 

He hears Benny murmur behind him, “I’m glad you did.”

 

They’ve gone about half way around the camp before Dean speaks again. “How’re you settling in?”

 

“It’s good, Dean. I’m – I’m really happy to be here.” He says it so earnestly that it gives Dean pause.

 

“The uprising? Did it happen yet?”

 

Benny shakes his head. “Not sure. I left before anything happened, but things were getting tense. You could feel it, you know?”

 

Dean chews on his lip. He wants to tell Benny how glad he is that he made it, that he’s here and not lying in pieces on a street somewhere. Or worse. But he doesn’t and instead asks, “What about you, then? What’s your story?”

 

Benny smiles this slow, wide smile and it makes Dean smile in response. “What?” he says around a grin, not even sure why they’re smiling.

 

“I’ll answer your questions if I can ask questions back.”

 

And Dean’s not sure he likes this kind of game at all. What if Benny asks something he doesn’t want to answer? He must pause for too long because Benny softens and clasps a big hand on his shoulder. “You can set up some ground rules, if you want.”

 

He’s not even sure how Benny does that. Knows what he’s thinking and always has the right thing to say to put him at ease. A little spooky, but Dean appreciates it too much to complain.

 

“Okay... no more than, let’s say, ten questions a day? And you can pass or save the question for later.”

 

Benny nods. “Seems fair. All right, so your question was what’s my story? Well, you already know about the boat, so I guess it’s my turn for the sad part. It was me, a few others, and... Andrea. Prettiest girl you’d ever seen, all this dark hair and golden skin. Couldn’t even breathe around her sometimes, you know.”

 

And all of the sudden, Dean feels cold. Of course, Benny had a girl. A pretty sailor girl on a boat who he obviously loved, Dean can hear it in the wistfulness of his voice, and yeah, Dean doesn’t want to play anymore and he’s not even sure why. Why should it bother him? He doesn’t know. He’s picturing a tan goddess in a sailor’s hat now and the image settles under his skin like a vicious itch. But Benny’s still talking, so he pushes it away with some difficulty.

 

“...but we got separated when the boat sank. We searched for as long as we dared, but I never did find her again,” he tells Dean. He can hear the sadness, the pain, the despair. “I’m not sure she ever made it out of the water.”

 

Dean can’t help his next move, slings an arm around Benny’s broad shoulders and squeezes slightly. “I’m sorry, man.” And he is. He can’t imagine not knowing what happened for sure. He knows his mom is gone, he all but saw it happen. Benny may never know though, and that’s got to be eating at him.

 

“My turn, then. What’s your favorite color?”

 

Dean snorts out a laugh. “That’s your question?”

 

“Yep, it is.”

 

“Yellow,” he replies without hesitation. Yellow like the dress his mom was wearing the day he left for school and never saw her again. Yellow like her hair glinting in the sunlight. “What’s yours?”

 

“Is that your question?” he asks Dean, a little mockingly. But he’s smiling.

 

“Yeah, so answer it or pass,” he challenges.

 

“Green.”

 

Dean doesn’t think he imagines Benny looking right into his eyes when he says that.

 

 

***

Now it’s a fun game, especially since the heartbreaking back-stories are out of the way. Benny surprises him the next evening when he’s brushing his teeth before bed by asking how old he is.

 

And then waits with a crooked brow while Dean thoroughly brushes each individual tooth and rinsing before answering, grinning around his toothbrush. He flashes just-cleaned teeth and tells him he’s almost twenty-four.

 

“So, how old are you then?”

 

Benny’s eyebrows shoot up until they aren’t visible from under his cap. “You – you’re only twenty-three?”

 

Dean squints in confusion as he taps his toothbrush against his hand. “Uh, yeah. Is that – “ he coughs. “Is that a problem?” He knew it. He always knew his age would come back to bite him in the ass in some way, no matter what Sam or the others thought.

 

“No, no problem!” Benny backtracks hastily. “I just. I guess I didn’t realize how young you are for some reason.” He looks a little sad now and it’s confusing Dean.

 

“Not that young,” he replies gruffly. “Not a kid.”

 

“No,” he agrees, though Dean can hear a hint of sympathy in his voice. “No, you’re not.”

 

“Well, how old are you then? _Old man_ ,” he teases, feeling uncomfortable. He doesn’t want pity or sympathy. He’s had a good life compared to some, he knows that.

 

Benny blows out a breath and says, “Thirty-one.”

 

“That’s not that big of a difference, man! You had me thinking you were old enough to be my daddy or something.” Dean catches the innuendo too late and blushes furiously, feeling himself harden a little in his sweatpants at Benny’s surprised, hungry look, his darkening eyes. “Okay, well, um, see ya around.”

 

He turns and sprints into his cabin and thanks all the deities he can think of that Sammy isn’t in the room, as he shoves a hand down the front of his pants and squeezes his thickening, hardening cock. He leans against the door, not even making it to his bed, as he pushes down the waistband and strokes himself, tightening his grip over the leaking head and biting his free hand as he comes harder than he has in a while.

 

O- _kay_ , he thinks, still breathing heavily and frowning in dismay at his come-covered hand.

 

He wipes his hand on a dirty shirt and climbs into bed, skin prickling a little as the sweat on his body cools. His dreams are full of warm touches and a warmer voice coaxing him to orgasm again and again, riding a thick, swelling cock until he can subconsciously feel the soreness in his thighs.

 

From Sam’s incredibly grumpy face in the morning and the “Dean, _gross_ ” comment, he thinks he may not have been so quiet in his sleep.

 

 

***

They dance around each other for weeks, back and forth questions toeing the line of appropriate and just-friendly. Dean doesn’t think about it too much, just waits for the next opportunity to question sneak attack Benny.

 

He’s been planning this one for a while, waiting for the perfect moment to shock him. He makes sure that Cas is in front of him in line for breakfast and has gone out of hearing before he turns to Benny with a coy smile.

 

“Okay, I’ve got one.”

 

Benny leans over the counter in anticipation. “Shoot.”

 

“Favorite sexual position?”

 

Well, Dean always did like toeing the line.

 

Unfortunately, his plan to shock Benny goes a little awry when Benny doesn’t so much as raise a brow, but instead tugs the lapel of Dean’s leather jacket until the counter is uncomfortably pressing into his hip and he’s sharing the same breath with Benny.

 

“I’d rather show you,” he growls quietly. Dean forgets how to breathe. And then Benny lets go of his jacket and hands him a plate with a wink and a smile.

 

Dean’s never been so confused and aroused in his entire life.

 

*** 

Days later, he’s jogging up the steps to Cas’ cabin, and he notices once he’s nearly to the door that there are entirely too many breathy laughs and grunts coming from within, and nope, not going there. He turns on his heel and smacks right into Benny.

 

Benny who grabs him by the arms and holds him too close for too long. “Whoa, there, you alright?”

 

“Ye – um, yeah, fine. Was just gonna talk to Cas for a sec, but he seems to be preoccupied,” he chuckles nervously. Why is he even nervous? Maybe it’s because Benny still hasn’t let him go, even though he caught his balance about six seconds ago. He doesn’t mind it though.

 

They’re nearly nose-to-nose and Benny sways slightly, bringing his mouth closer, but then he rights himself, stepping back a good foot away from Dean. “Sorry, sorry, brother.”

 

“It’s fine,” he says faintly. It is fine, too, he’s amazed to find. “Um, were you looking for Cas?” He straightens his jacket, subtly rubbing the cool leather between his fingers in an effort to pull himself together.

 

“Uh, no, but he’s - ?” Benny motions to the door and Dean shakes his head.

 

“Might want to take a walk for a while. Sorry, Benny,” he says, smothering down a chuckle. Then he realizes. “Wait, you’re staying with _Cas_? I mean,” he corrects. “He doesn’t really do roommates. I think the reason he and Ash get along so well is because Ash usually passes out on Ellen’s floor anyway.”

 

Benny guffaws loudly. “Yeah, I’ve noticed actually.”

 

“You can come stay in my cabin with me and Sam,” he interjects. “We have a free bed.” Then he feels cold. They have a free bed because Dad no longer needs it. But he can’t take back the offer now that it’s out there.

 

“Yeah?” Benny looks and sounds so hopeful and now he definitely can’t take it back. He curses himself internally.

 

“Sure, it’s no problem,” he assures him, only sort of lying through his teeth. It’s not that he doesn’t want Benny in his cabin. He just... doesn’t want Benny in his dad’s bed. “Well, I should get it all set up for you,” he says breezily, backing up off the steps. “You just swing by whenever uh, Cas lets you get your stuff out.”

 

And then he takes off jogging.

 

Sam might actually kill him, too.

 

***

“In our cabin?” Sam repeats blank-faced. “Here? What, in _Dad’s_ bed?”

 

“Um. Well. Okay, no, it’s okay. I’ve got this. Here, help me.”

 

He starts dragging his bed towards the opposite side of the room and lets it drop beside Dad’s. He tugs on Dad’s bed until it’s in roughly the same spot as where Dean’s bed was. “I thought you were going to help me.”

 

“Dean, I don’t even know what you’re doing.”

 

“What’s it look like? I’m switching the beds.”

 

“I see that,” Sam says slowly. “Why?”

 

“Well, so. So, he doesn’t. I don’t. And it’s not...”

 

Sam squints at him. “That made less sense than usual. So, Benny is now sleeping in _your_ bed?”

 

Oh. He hadn’t really thought of it like that. Actually, his thought process stopped somewhere around _he can’t sleep in Dad’s bed if I’m sleeping in it first_. And, yeah, that was about it.

 

“Uhh, well, I mean I’ll change the sheets. And I’m sure he has his own pillow. Right?”

 

Sam gives him a long-suffering look and says something about going out, but Dean doesn’t pay attention, too busy looking out the window waiting for Benny to show up. “Maybe it’s not a good idea, you think?” he says, biting at a hangnail as he turns to find himself alone in the room.

 

“Well. Shit,” he mumbles to the ladybug crawling across the window. “Do _you_ think it’s a good idea?”

 

The ladybug doesn’t answer, but instead starts heading up the window frame and across the wall. He’s still watching it when he notices Benny’s reflection in the window and he presses closer to the cold glass trying to get a better look.

 

“Somethin’ interesting out there, brother?”

 

“Jesus!” Dean spins around and on reflex, reaches for the gun in his thigh holster that isn’t there. He smoothes his hand down his shirt instead and then blushes furiously when Benny’s eyes follow the movement, hungry.

 

“It’s – You – The, oh never mind. Uh, come on in,” Dean gestures uselessly, realizing that Benny is, in fact, already inside when he chuckles at Dean.

 

“Thanks for this, Dean, but are you sure? You didn’t have to,” he says, blue eyes serious and watching.

 

Dean nods and clears his throat, getting himself back under control again and motions at Benny’s empty hands. “Where’s your stuff?”

 

“I wanted to come by first and see if you were serious about this. What about your brother? And,” he rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Cas is still _occupyin’_ the cabin, but I’ll head back over soon.”

 

They spend the next fifteen minutes rearranging the bed, Benny insisting it’s fine and Dean insisting that it could be better. It, of course, ends up in exactly the same place it started and Dean can see Benny rolling his lips inward to hide his smile. They’re nice lips, pink and plush just visible from beneath his beard, and Dean wonders what they’d feel like on his lips and whoa.

 

In his haste to physically get away from his own thoughts, his clunky combat boot catches on the other foot and he falls ass first onto the bed. He’s staring at the ceiling wondering briefly when exactly he forgot how to walk when Benny looms over him, eyebrows raised. Dean pretends his breath doesn’t stutter out, that his fists don’t clench in the bedding, that he doesn’t want Benny over him like this only closer, touching, more, more, _more_.

 

“You alright?”

 

“Fine,” he replies weakly, waving a thumbs-up that feels like it’s mocking him. God, he’s losing it. How can his hand be mocking him, get a grip Dean.

 

Benny nods uncertainly, still hovering over Dean’s prone body. He grabs Dean’s upraised thumb and wraps his hand around the fleshy part of Dean’s palm, tugs and pulls Dean up like he weighs nothing. “Need a hand?”

 

And there goes Dean’s imagination again. “No. I mean, yeah, thanks. Um, good, okay.” He’s blushing again, damn it. “So, how about the grand tour?”

 

The cabin really isn’t much. The layout is exactly the same as the other cabins, though Dean likes to think that he and Sam have made it a little homier over the years. The cabin is longer than it is wide, leaving room enough to walk between the two beds on opposite walls but not much else.

 

Sam’s side of the room is a little messier than Dean’s, even though they cleaned the place not too long ago. Benny pauses beside the towering mountains of books stacked to the right of Sam’s bed. He whistles appreciatively.

 

“All these Sam’s? Must be over a hundred books here.”

 

Dean can’t even try to keep the tinge of pride in his voice down. “Yeah, Sammy’s a real smart one, you know? Always reading and shit.” He thinks about it sometimes, that if none of this ever happened, Sam would be in college now and doing something awesome with his life.

 

Benny frowns a little. “Dean – “ he starts, but shakes his head slightly and changes course. “Where’d they all come from?”

 

Oh. This is a sadder story. “Uh, there used to be a bookstore we’d get them from, but the owner died about a year ago.” Dean doesn’t mention how he’d witnessed it happen. The Leviathan bursting through the door of the shop, dragging old Mr. Landry into the street and accused him of helping “the rebels”. One of them reared its ugly head back and tore into the man with fangs and a forked tongue before he could say a word. Witnesses on the street were too frightened to even scream and Dean had been horrified, grabbing Cas and dodging through a back alley to get to the Jeep. They didn’t speak a word the entire ride back, hands clenching, faces white.

 

And it was only when they’d gotten back to The Compound that he realized _they_ were “the rebels”.

 

Leviathan knew they were out there, but hopefully they hadn’t figured out where yet. And after that, Dean was especially careful about going into town. Only taking from those who could afford it and were willing to help. They spaced out the trips and timed them precisely. It’s not much, but they do what they can. His smile drops as he thinks about it and the mood takes a downward shift.

 

Benny’s perceptive enough to catch it and wisely doesn’t press further. Dean feels a rush of gratefulness, happy he’s not being pushed into talking about shit, like Sam, or even Charlie, would have wanted to do.

 

He keeps walking around the cabin, eyeing things but never touching without a raised brow at Dean first, asking permission. Dean’s side of the room is cleaner but only because he hangs most of his stuff on the wall. The pictures Charlie drew for his last birthday are hanging to the left of his bed. His favorite is her pretty impressive rendering of Han Solo, blaster gun up and ready to fire. He may have drunkenly told her one night that he’d never be more attracted to anyone more than he was to Han, and she kindly only teased him a little. Then she shared her own drunken confession of her love for Princess Leia and he’d bumped her shoulder with his and said, “We’re a pair, aren’t we?” She wholeheartedly agreed before passing out.

 

After a go ahead nod, Benny runs his finger along the shelf above Dean’s bed.

 

“Did you do this? It’s good work, Dean,” Benny remarks, approval warming his accented voice.

 

He rubs the back of his neck for something to do with his hands and replies, “Yeah, I mean it wasn’t so hard. Just cut the wood and found some brackets.” He doesn’t mention the carvings he put along the front and sides and Benny tilts his head with a knowing smile. He traces the outline of a tiny Icarus reaching for the sun that takes up most of the left side of the shelf.

 

“What’s this one?”

 

“Well, that one I liked because Zeppelin used it and the wings remind me of angels and my mom – “ he pauses and exhales long and loud. “My mom used to say something to me every night about angels and, I don’t know, I liked it,” he shrugs nonchalantly but his insides feel anything but nonchalant. This is Mom. This is important.

 

He glances at the framed picture leaning against the wall on the shelf. A very tiny him stands grinning between his mom’s legs as she leans against the hood of the Impala and holds newborn baby Sammy in her arms. She’s laughing, her blonde hair is curled over one shoulder and Sam’s hand reaching up out of the blankets like a tiny Rocky, fist pumping the air.

 

It’s the only picture he has of her.

 

Benny doesn’t say anything, but instead squeezes Dean’s arm softly and hangs on for a beat too long. And somehow that’s better than any words.

 

***

Benny leaves a while later and says that he’ll move in tomorrow night, if it’s okay with Sam. Dean protests the tomorrow night part only half-heartedly because it’s actually really thoughtful of the guy to give him and Sam one more night to adjust.

 

Sam bounces back into the cabin a couple hours later and Dean teases him about the just visible hickey near the junction between his neck and shoulder. It’s his right as a big brother after all.

 

“Hey, Dean, uh, this sorta brings up something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about actually.” He’s shifting nervously, which puts Dean on edge.

 

“Okay, shoot,” he grunts, curious but wary.

 

Sam rushes out with it all at once. “You inviting Benny to live here was actually kinda perfect because Jess and I want to move in together and this is like, the ideal opportunity because now you won’t be alone and I won’t have to listen to you and Benny and – “

 

“Wait, listen to me and Benny what?” Dean stares at Sam like he’s grown a second head. “What the hell do you think we’re doing in here?”

 

“You’re – But he’s? Um,” he stumbles around his words, face getting redder and Dean’s just getting more confused by the second. Sam changes tactics then. “That’s the only part of my speech you had a problem with?” Peers at Dean like he wants to hold a hand up to his forehead to check for a fever, but Dean preemptively slaps his hand away before it can come near him.

 

“Dude, it’s not like it’s _such_ a surprise. You’ve been together since she got here, like what? Three years ago? Four?”

 

“Three and a half,” Sam mumbles, face still pink.

 

“Right. Well, there you go.”

 

“That’s it? I’m telling you I’m leaving and all you have to say is ‘there you go’? Dean!”

 

“Sammy, seriously?” he snaps, annoyance pulsing at the edges of his tone. “You’re mad I said yes? What, you wanted me to say no?”

 

“No! I just thought...”

 

Dean reaches up to ruffles Sam’s hair exactly how he hates and grins at him. “If you and Jess are cool and happy, then I’m cool, too. Besides, you spend the night with her all the time – ah!” he interrupts Sam’s protests. “I know when you’re sneaking around and you crawl back in here early in the morning. I’m not that stupid.”

 

“Not stupid, Dean,” he says into Dean’s hair as he pulls him in for a hug. “Thanks, man.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Pats him on the back and grumbles about little brothers growing too tall.

 

It isn’t until Sam leaves to tell Jess the news that Dean realizes he’s effectively kicked Sam out of the cabin. Granted, he wants to go, but it feels so final and whoa, Dean’s not sure about this at all now.

 

How can he look after Sammy if Sammy isn’t even _here_? It’s his job, his purpose.

 

By the time he gets into bed, he’s worked himself into a panic and wonders how mad Sam would be if he suddenly changed his mind and said no way in hell.

 

Probably pretty mad.  

 

***

He doesn’t voice his concerns when Sam’s moving his stuff out that weekend. He also doesn’t say anything as he helps him rearrange his stuff to fit around Jess’ or when he trudges outside and stares at the front of the cabin. He does complain very loudly, however, when Bobby comes up behind him and smacks the back of his head.

 

“Bobby, what the hell! Ow,” he rubs his head and dodges a second smack. “Bobby!”

 

“You damn idjit, quit standing out here pouting. He ain’t gone. He’s _right next door_ and you’re actin’ like he’s up and moved to Cambodia.”

 

As Dean only has a vague notion of where Cambodia is, he doesn’t reply to that. “Yeah, but – “

 

“No, go on and get back to your boyfriend over there and leave Sam to his girlfriend.”

 

“What boyfriend? Who?” For a split second he thinks Bobby means Victor, but they haven’t hooked up in over a year. “Wait. _Benny_?” he asks, jaw hanging open.

 

Bobby pops his jaw and says, “You’ll catch flies like that. And yes, _Benny_ ,” rolling his eyes. When Dean fails to respond to that, Bobby squints at him suspiciously. “You damn idjit,” he mutters cryptically and walks away.

 

Well, that was weird. And how is it that everyone thinks he and Benny are...? Are what? What are they exactly? He’s never had to define something like this before. Victor was the closest he’d ever gotten, but it was always so easy with them. Uncomplicated. Nothing to define.

 

Now? For some reason, everyone seems to know, or _think_ they know, what he and Benny are doing together. Flirting? He grimaces. That sounds so... _teenage chick_.

 

He can’t ask Benny about it either, not without sounding like a grade A asshole. _Hey, so, uh are we in like, a relationship or something? Ha ha, funny right?_ Also teenage chick, he thinks.

 

Ah, whatever. Dean decides to take the most obvious route – ignore it and go find someone to have a drink with. Victor’s his best bet, so he does a 180˚ and heads for his cabin, wondering if Bobby’s in, too. He gives a cursory knock before swinging the door open and then really wishes he’d waited to be invited in.

 

Victor and Jo spring apart, not so subtly wiping their mouths and Dean’s pretty sure under Victor’s chocolate brown skin, he’s blushing fire engine red. Jo glares defiantly at him as if to say _do you mind?_

 

“Um. Hey, guys,” waving a hand awkwardly as he stares at his feet. “So. Uh. Huh.” Absurdly, he recalls something he heard a teacher say once and it made him giggle and he wants to say it now. _Well, you could just knock me over with a feather._ You really could. Like, the tiniest feather.

 

“Winchester,” Jo snaps at him. “Little busy!”

 

She turns to Victor as if expecting help, but Victor’s staring at his shoes, too and Jo huffs loudly before sashaying out the door, head held high as only Jo could do.

 

“Dean, I was gonna tell you – “

 

“So, that’s cool – “

 

They start at the same time, look at each other and then laugh. Dean claps a hand on Victor’s shoulder and grins at him. “You and Jo, huh?”

 

He smiles sheepishly and nods. “Yeah, not for a long time, but yeah. Ellen’s kinda scary.” He says the last part with so seriously that Dean can’t help but laugh.

 

“Yeah, she is, but no, that’s really cool, man. Jo’s awesome and you’re awesome and, well, it’s awesome,” he finishes a little lamely. But he’s surprised by how much he means it.  

 

“Thanks,” Victor smiles fondly. “But, hey, what’s up? Tell me you have a good reason for interrupting.” Now he looks a little pissed, like he’s just remembering that Dean did in fact interrupt him and Jo, and maybe that’s Dean’s cue to get out of here.

 

“No, it’s not important. Don’t worry about it,” he says, backing towards the door, but Victor grabs him before he gets too far.

 

“What? What’s going on? Seriously.”

 

Victor tosses Dean a beer (and really, he needs to start keeping such a ready supply of alcohol in his room) and motions for him to sit. Dean sits next to Victor on his bed and gets through about half his beer before he starts talking. Victor just waits patiently and matches him gulp for gulp.

 

Dean explains in halting words between finishing his beer and fiddling with the pop tab after how everyone thinks he and Benny are together and he just... doesn’t get it.

 

Victor makes noncommittal hums while Dean talks, sipping at his beer and toying with the buckle on his watch the way he does whenever he’s thinking really hard.

 

“This is stupid, sorry,” Dean groans after he’s covered the basics. “I think I hang out with Charlie too much. She and Gilda are always doing that... _feelings_ thing.”

 

Victor ignores him and says instead, “I think it’s the way you guys look at each other, personally.”

 

“What does that mean?” He wasn’t aware he looked at Benny any certain way. Does he?

 

“Well,” Victor replies, rubbing at his goatee. “And that damn game of yours.” Dean freezes, a little shocked at that. He didn’t know anyone else had caught on and now he can feel his cheeks heating up.

 

Victor continues on though, “Okay, I see it this way, too. Every time you say ‘Benny’ you smile. It’s almost comical. In a really cheesy way, yeah.”

 

Dean sputters out a laugh. “No, I don’t!” he protests. “Benny’s just a friend.” And son of a bitch, he catches his reflection in the window and he’s _smiling_. He glances at Victor with wide eyes. “Dude.”

 

“Yeah,” Victor responds, nodding sagely. “I know thinking about your feelings isn’t your favorite thing to do, Winchester, but why don’t you talk to Benny? You might be surprised.”

 

Dean leaves the cabin more than a little confused and when he gets back to his own, he’s flustered by how flustered he is that Benny’s already in the room.

 

“Evenin’, Dean,” he says, all calm and easy, looking up from his book. Like Dean isn’t having an internal crisis about him right this very second.

 

“Hey.” He flops onto his bed and manages to toe off his boots before crawling under the covers and pointedly ignoring Benny’s questioning look. Dean can go to bed at 8:30. It’s fine. Normal, even.

 

He pulls the covers to his ears and screws his eyes closed tight, belatedly realizing he hasn’t brushed his teeth. Oh well, he’s not getting out of this bed again. He squeezes his eyes until starbursts pop on his inner eyelids and he focuses on that instead of Benny’s warm scent and the scritch-scratch of Benny rubbing his beard, the way he hums as he reads. The way Dean is hyperaware of every single thing Benny’s doing right now.

 

***

Dean, of course, compensates for his conversation with Victor by swinging between overly friendly with Benny to ignoring him completely. Which isn’t fair to Benny because not only is he the nicest guy in the world, he’s been a perfect roommate and a good friend. He’s a little embarrassed that this goes on for over a week, but now he doesn’t know how to stop.

 

All of which is why Dean isn’t too surprised when Charlie grabs him with a death grip while he’s in line for breakfast and yanks him outside and around to the back of the mess hall.

 

“What is wrong with you?”

 

“Well –“

 

“You’re being a jerk to Benny, you know. You do know, don’t you?” Her face is incredulous, like she can’t believe Dean is so obtuse. Which is ridiculous because she’s known him for years now and she knows exactly how obtuse he can be.

 

“Yes, I know. I’m being a jerk.”

 

“Well, that’s a step in the right direction,” she huffs. “Oh, good. Backup.”

 

“Backup?” Dean turns and he’s horrified to see Cas and Gilda approaching, looking grim. “You’re triple-teaming me? What for?”

 

Cas is standing in front of him now, arms crossed and reeking of patchouli (and where does he even get that stuff, honestly), and Gilda bumps a slim shoulder against Charlie’s and they share a sickeningly sweet smile before turning equally firm looks to Dean. Geez.

 

“Benny’s a nice guy, Dean,” Cas starts.

 

“I know that – “

 

“He doesn’t deserve to be jerked around like this,” Gilda jumps in.

 

“Yeah, I know, but – “

 

“You’re going to go apologize to him,” Charlie cuts him off. She presses her hands against his cheeks and furrows her brows sternly.

 

“Okay, but – “

 

“Dean!” Charlie rocks his head side to side slightly. Then her eyes soften. “We love you and we really like Benny, okay?”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Good!” Gilda looks pleased and Cas and Charlie share a triumphant nod. Charlie gently rotates Dean back towards the front of the building and gives him a little shove.

 

“Go get him, tiger!”

 

Someone slaps his ass as he goes. Probably Cas.

 

He wanders back into the mess hall and doesn’t see Benny anywhere. Great. He does, however, see Sam making cow eyes at Jess and he doesn’t feel sorry at all when he plops heavily next to Sam at the table and makes him jump in surprise.

 

“I’ve been a jerk to Benny, apparently.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Jess rolls her eyes. “Sorry. You want a plate, Dean?”

 

“Yes, please,” he mumbles.

 

Jess gets up and leaves a confused Sam patting the back of Dean’s head awkwardly when he drops his forehead to the tabletop.

 

“So, a jerk?” Sam says slowly, still playing catch-up apparently.

 

“I guess. Well, no. I have.”

 

“Right...”

 

Dean sits up abruptly, dislodging Sam’s hand even though it felt kinda nice, and makes a face. “Charlie, Cas, and Gilda just triple-teamed me outside to make me apologize to Benny. I mean, yeah, I’ll apologize, but why’s everyone so – so _invested_ in what I do?”

 

Sam snorts disbelievingly. And then looks at Dean. “Oh. _Oh_. Dean. Don’t you get it?”

 

“Uh, no, dude. That’s the point here.”

 

“They love you. _I_ love you. Even when you’re being an idiot. Like right now,” he snorts. “Look, you took over for Dad and you’ve been running the place for years now.”

 

“Not by myself, Sammy,” Dean cuts in. “This isn’t a one-man show. Everyone does their share around here, you know that.”

 

Sam makes a ‘duh’ face. “Yeah, everyone does their part. But you really don’t think you do just a little more than the rest?” He swipes a hand through his shaggy hair and switches tactics. Dean makes a mental note to tell him to cut it later because it’s getting a little ridiculous.

 

“Everyone just wants to see you happy, that’s all. And Benny likes you, too, you know.”

 

 

Sam sighs and continues when Dean doesn’t say anything. “Look, man, you’ve been living in this camp for half your life.”

 

“So have you!” Dean interrupts. They came here together, for Christ’s sake, or did Sam forget that little detail.

 

“Yeah,” Sam shrugs. “But I found Jess. I’m happy, man. A lot of people around here,” he gestures around before he realizes the mess hall is mostly empty at this point and frowns. “Well, a lot of people have figured out that they don’t want to be alone. And you, you’re not happy.”

 

“I’m happy,” he replies, a little defensively. He is. Isn’t he? He’s got The Compound and his family and friends. He’s not alone, he’s got a good life, he knows. Some people got it a lot worse. He tells Sam as much, who concedes this point with a nod.

 

“But you’re not.” This comes from Jess, who comes bearing a plate of toast and bacon and she smiles kindly at him. “Dean, you deserve a little happiness. Do you like Benny?”

 

“Yeah, of course, he’s a good guy – “

 

“No, do you _like_ him?”

 

“Jesus, Jess,” he complains. “Is this one of those ‘do you like him-like him’ things? I’m back in sixth grade.”

 

She smacks his knuckles with her open palm. “ _No_ ,” she huffs. “Well, kinda. But don’t make it sound dumb. It’s not dumb.”

 

Does he like Benny? He thinks about it while ripping apart his toast and chewing on the pieces. Sam and Jess go back to playing footsie under the table and ignore Dean, which is equal parts nice and annoying of them.

 

And then he realizes.

 

Yeah, he does. He _really_ does.

 

“I have to go,” he announces, though unnecessarily, since both Sam and Jess acknowledge his departure with little more than a muttered “m’kay”, too wrapped up in each other to take much notice.

 

Unfortunately, the rush of “I’m gonna tell him” wears off about a half hour later when Dean has searched the entire Compound and has yet to find a trace of Benny. The few people he did stop to ask only wrinkle their brows confusedly, as if he should already know Benny’s whereabouts.

 

No, he doesn’t know, damnit, that’s why he’s asking.

 

He’s making a second circle of the living quarters when Bobby snatches his sleeve from seemingly out of nowhere. “Jesus, Bobby! Give a guy a heart attack...”

 

Bobby looks serious. Or, at least, more serious than usual. He jerks his head towards his cabin and pulls Dean along. “C’mon, son. We’ve got a problem.”

 

Bobby really does know how to give a guy a heart attack.

 

***

Dean walks out of Bobby’s cabin an hour later and heads straight for his own, head spinning and guts churning.

 

A possible leak. That’s what Bobby kept calling it. He and Ash were the only ones in the cabin with Dean (“let’s not cause panic now, son”) and Ash’s comments all those weeks ago aren’t making any more sense, but at least Dean gets why he said it in the first place.

 

A _leak_?

 

That made it sound like faulty plumbing or missing shingles on a roof during a rainstorm, but this was neither. This was more serious.

 

Bobby and Ash couldn’t provide Dean with serious concrete evidence, of course, but as Dean drops quietly onto his bed, the burdens of being leader were starting to weigh heavily on him.

 

At the moment, he’s glad Benny isn’t in the cabin. He needs alone time. He needs to think. Stretching out on his bed, he stares at the stars he and Sammy had carved into the ceiling on Sam’s fifteenth birthday.

 

They had attempted vague representations of the constellations Dad had always pointed out to them, but the Big Dipper above Sam’s now unused bed and Orion above Dean’s were the only recognizable ones. He counts the stars and their points, remembering how they’d stood on piles of books on the bed to carve them, wobbling and falling off more often than not. Dad had come in to find Sam and Dean laughing on the floor and appreciating the view of their latest art project.

 

It was one of the few times Dean can remember Dad just _being_ with them all together. He’d stretched out on the floor next to them and told them stories about Vietnam and how clear the stars were out in the jungle when you could actually catch a glimpse of open sky through the dense canopy of trees.

 

He wishes Dad were here now. He’d know what to do because Dean? Dean has no idea.

 

Ash mentioned Leviathan sightings in the last few days, closer than ever before to The Compound. They hadn’t found the camp yet, but it might only be a matter of time. After all, Dean knew the Leviathan had been aware of their existence for at least a year. The natural conclusion was that they would be looking for Dean and the rest of the resistance, and the outlying woods were the most obvious place to hide, so while concerning, this piece of news wasn’t as surprising as what Bobby told him.

 

Bobby had pointed out that papers were misplaced, or even outright missing, for a few hours but then would be back as if it had never disappeared. The only papers Bobby ever kept were maps, inventory of supplies and weapons, and, most worryingly of all, details about upcoming raids and missions. Every time they went out, it had to perfectly coordinated, down to the second. Going in unprepared could be the difference between life and death.

 

Dean’s concern was the papers would be altered and it would fuck them up later on down the road, but Bobby didn’t think that was the issue. “I’m more worried about who’s seeing these things when they’re gone. We don’t make everything public for a reason.”

 

He said he’d move the papers and keep them locked up, see if that solved any problems. Dean had a feeling it wouldn’t be enough though.

 

If they had a leak, if someone was stealing information... he couldn’t even begin to imagine how catastrophic this could all be.

 

It isn’t fair, he thinks bitterly, not for himself, but for the survivors. How much had they all been through, how much had they sacrificed? How much blood had been spilled? And here, the place they believed could provide safety like nowhere else in the world, might not even be that safe at all.

 

Worse still, they were all looking to Dean to provide that safety, and he wasn’t sure he could do it.

 

He sinks into an uneasy, fitful sleep that night, always on the edge of waking. His mind clouds with anxiety making it impossible to relax, and he can feel the knots of tension developing in his neck and shoulders. Benny sneaks in while Dean is tossing and turning, causing the mattress springs to squeak loud enough to raise the dead.

 

Dean can sense Benny pausing as he gets ready for bed, can feel Benny looking at him, and he keeps his eyes shut. Talking is the last thing he wants to do right now, even though he still needs to straighten things about between them. But not now. Later.

 

***

His apology to Benny kept getting pushed further back in his mind. Nearly every waking moment was spent with Bobby and Ash, trying to ascertain what could be most damaging, what could endanger the lives of everyone here.

 

They keep it all between the three of them, though Dean knows Victor suspects something, but thankfully never asks. Dean sends a silent thank-you to him for being the same perceptive shit he always is.

 

Cas does pull him aside one day with genuine concern etching his face. “Dean, what’s going on? You’ve been... distant as of late.”

 

He knows Cas is examining the dark circles under his eyes, the awkward slump of tense shoulders. He’s unable to even manage a smile at this point, and so doesn’t even try, settling for a quick pat on the shoulder. “Nothing to worry about, man,” he assures, knowing he’s missed convincing by a mile when Cas arches a knowing eyebrow at him.

 

“Nothing? So I guess this nothing is about Sam?”

 

“Sam? What about Sam?” He goes from confused to panic to guilt and back again within milliseconds and it’s crushing when he realizes he hasn’t really spoken to Sam in a while, too caught up in the leak.

 

He tries to remember the last time and he wonders if Cas can feel the self-loathing radiating from his body as he figures the mess hall conversation about Benny was probably the last real conversation they’d had. That was over a week ago now.

 

Speaking of which, that means it’s been over a week since he meant to apologize to Benny for being a grade A jerk lately. Goddamnit. He runs a hand through his hair, and can’t remember the last time he bothered even running a comb through it. Or showered for that matter... He takes a step back from Cas apologetically, suddenly aware that he probably doesn’t smell all that awesome right now.

 

Things keep piling up and Dean’s suffocating under the weight of them all. Sam, the leak, Benny, keeping it all together, not letting anyone see how fucking close he is to falling apart completely. It’s exhausting. _He’s_ exhausted.

 

He tries a little harder to reassure Cas before excusing himself to find Sam. One thing at a time, right? And Sam is the most important thing to him. Even if everything goes to hell (or further into hell than they already are), Sam is his constant, his responsibility. Always has been, always will be.

 

He plays with the zipper of his leather jacket as he walks, imagining the leather like armor. Nothing can touch him, nothing can hurt him – he’s protected. Dean doesn’t want to admit even to himself how much he needs that assurance right now.

 

*** 

Dean knocks on the cabin doorframe and hears Gilda call him in.

 

“Dean,” she says warmly. “Haven’t seen you in so long, here, come sit.” She pats the bed beside her and moves the pieces of the gun she’s cleaning.

 

“Were you looking for Charlie? Or Sam?”

 

“Um, Sam.” He sits beside her and she graciously doesn’t remark on how fucking awkward he’s being, perching at the edge of her bed and tapping his foot until even he’s annoyed.

 

He’s spent more time than he can count hanging with Charlie in here and now his brother is here too, so, what’s the problem?

 

Oh right, he’s been avoiding them all and he feels guilty.

 

“Oh, hey Dean, is that you?” Jess calls out. “Come back here!”

 

“Yep,” he says, probably not loud enough for her to hear, but he pats Gilda’s knee and wishes her luck on cleaning. She laughs at little at him and thanks him, and he leaves blushing. Yeah, it was a dumb comment, he knows.

 

The girls (and Sam now) have set up their cabin to appear more like two rooms, rather than one long one. Sam and Jess took the back area, separating it with some hanging sheets and as he pokes his head around it, he covers his eyes dramatically.

 

“Everyone decent?”

 

“Ha ha, hilarious, Dean,” Jess replies drily. “Come here.”

 

He opens his eyes to find Jess cross-legged on the floor and sorting through clothes. Dean plops down next to her and asks, “Where’s Sam?”

 

“Actually, I was hoping you could tell me.” She tosses a pair of jeans into a pile and grimaces at the dirt stains. “Yeah, I doubt that’s gonna come out.”

 

“Uh, no?” he rubs the back of his neck and absent-mindedly starts making a separate pile of clothes. He doesn’t notice when Jess silently redistributes his pile into her own one piece at a time. “Is he doing something right now?”

 

She shrugs, but it’s off. Her eyes are too tight and she’s too tense to make it look casual. “He hasn’t been around a whole lot lately. Always with Ruby.”

 

“Ruby?” It takes Dean a second to remember who that is. “The girl that came in with Benny? Wait, is he...?” All of the sudden Dean doesn’t care if Sam’s his brother. “Is he _cheating_ on you?” he hisses. Brother or not, Dean is going to kill Sam. He can’t even imagine cheating on Jess, and he knows Sam isn’t that kind of person. So what the hell?

 

“Jesus, will you calm down?” she snaps back. “No, he’s not cheating on me. I don’t think,” she bites her lip and plays with the hem of her jeans, avoiding Dean’s eyes.

 

“Then what is it?”

 

“I don’t know! She’s always skulking around here and he’ll go off with her for a few hours, but they don’t seem particularly friendly, so I don’t get it. I don’t know what’s going on.”

 

And fuck, but it looks like Jess is going to cry and Dean just can’t handle that. “Um, it’s uh, it’s okay,” he soothes, badly. He tries to pat her long blond hair but the ring he always wears gets caught in her long curls and she shrieks and he yells because she yelled and Gilda comes rushing in with Sam not far behind her.

 

“Is everything okay?” she asks, looking wildly between the two of them. Dean feels bad because it’s not often he sees Gilda so off-balance. But she probably wasn’t expecting her roommate to be screaming while doing laundry either.

 

“Dean, what are you doing to my girlfriend?” Sam just looks irritated.

 

Jess speaks up before he can. “It’s nothing, he was just helping me out and we’re a little tangled, that’s all. Little help, babe?”

 

Sam’s long-suffering sigh is only half fake, Dean can tell, so he just quietly sits until his ring is back on his finger with a souvenir strand of blond hair still attached. “Ew, Jess,” he complains, contorting his face. “Get it off.”

 

She plucks it off with two fingers and waves it in front of him. His face stretches into an uglier grimace. “There. All gone, you big baby.”

 

“Oh, uh, Sammy, I was looking for you.” He doesn’t mention what Jess told him and she shoots him a small grateful smile in return. He nods and turns his attention to Gilda, who’s still hovering near the dividing sheet. “Sorry about all that, Gil.”

 

“It’s fine,” she says faintly. She disappears behind the curtain again and he looks back at Sam, still kneeling beside Jess.

 

“Hey, how about a walk, man?” Dean suggests, and he’s relieved when Sam agrees.

 

They head outside and wave at Victor and Jo holding hands. Dean smirks a little and isn’t at all offended when Jo playfully sticks her tongue out at him. He sticks his out for good measure and they share a smirk. “Is that new?” Sam asks, gesturing at the two of them.

 

“Not for a while, Sammy,” he responds carefully, quietly confused. He hasn’t noticed Victor and Jo? They’re terrible with the PDA and he would have thought it impossible to miss them making out against every tree. “So, what’s going on?”

 

Sam hums noncommittally and Dean snorts, starts leading them towards the lake. He sees Benny on the way down but they only have time for a quick nod of acknowledgement, as Gordon seems intent on having Benny’s undivided attention on their conversation.

 

The lake is gray and cold this time of the year. In the summer, they’ve all gone swimming and someone (Dean thinks it was Ash) found an old canoe left behind in the boathouse. They’d duct taped the holes and it floated pretty well actually, even though there were no paddles so you couldn’t drift too far out or you’d be stuck swimming back on your own and dragging the damn thing behind you.

 

Dean learned that lesson from experience.

 

Sam toes at some rocks and kicks them into the lake, watches the ripples spread. “How’re things with you and Benny?”

 

Dean’s thrown by it and stumbles for a moment before he just says, “Fine.” He clears his throat noisily and kicks a pretty big rock that has no business being kicked.

 

“You’ll break your toes, you idiot,” Sam chides from behind him. _Yeah, no kidding_ , he thinks, pressing his lips together as a shooting pain travels from the tip of his toes through his ankle to his shin.

 

But he doesn’t admit it out loud. “It’s fine. Fine,” he repeats. And he’s sure it will be fine. That everything will be fine. Maybe.

 

“But what about you?” He pauses for a moment to figure if he should bring Jess into this at all, but decides against it. “Been busy? Haven’t seen you around much.”

 

Sam scoffs. “Oh, like you’ve been so available lately.”

 

Ouch. Dean knows he’s been distant, been ignoring everyone. Been working himself into a panic every time he meets secretly with Bobby to figure out what’s going on around here. He knows, but it still hurts that Sam noticed and pointed it out.

 

“Sorry about that,” he says softly, sincerely. “I always have time for you, you know?”

 

Sam eyes him contemplatively while Dean holds his breath waiting. Finally, he nods in acceptance and Dean can breathe again. They spend nearly an hour throwing stones and talking about nothing in particular. Dean’s itching to ask about Ruby, Sam’s involvement with her, but he doesn’t and can’t understand why. He’s never held himself back with Sam before.

 

***

Dean finally makes an executive decision and halts all supply runs and missions for now. They just can’t know what information was stolen and if they would be walking into a trap if they went through with their plans.

 

Now they have time to figure out who could have done this. Bobby suggests starting with the newer arrivals and working backwards and Dean can’t find fault with his logic.

 

They cross off Lisa and Ben pretty quickly. The mother and son had come in with the same haunted look as all the others had about a week ago and Bobby points out that he noticed a map missing as far back as a month ago, possibly longer. An inventory of their supplies definitely went missing three weeks ago and was returned within an hour. “Probably not very interesting to whoever it is,” Ash muses from where he’s lying on the floor.

 

“Okay, so then what are they looking for? I mean, I agree, the list is only revealing of how much food we go through,” Bobby comments, rubbing his temples. “And everything is sporadic, sometimes there will be days where nothing is off and then a day where everything goes missing. There’s no way to lock these doors and it would raise suspicion if someone guarded the cabin at all times.”

 

Ash raises himself onto his elbows and nods. “Plus if someone’s clearly keeping a watch, whoever it is might get spooked and not try again.”

 

“Yeah, and if they get spooked, we’ll never figure this whole thing out.” Bobby and Ash are silent for a while, waiting expectantly for Dean to say something. He’s just not sure what to say. He’s so far out of his depth, and finds himself wishing Dad was here. He’d know what to do, he always did.

 

“Okay,” he says after a few minutes, biting at a hangnail and trying to gather his thoughts. “Uh, okay. I think we should just figure out who it is first, narrow down the possibilities. We gotta be smart about this. The whys and hows are important, but not right now.” He blows a breath out hard. “If we can stop them, then we can figure out why they want the information.”

 

Bobby nods in agreement, and turns an apologetic glance to Dean when he asks if he’s absolutely _sure_ it couldn’t be Benny. Dean feels hot under the collar at the suggestion and nearly bites off Bobby’s head for thinking it. “It’s not him,” he growls. It couldn’t be.

 

“What about that girl that came in with him? What’s her name?”

 

“Ruby?” Dean honestly can’t say he’s ever spoken more than two words to her. “I don’t know her really... oh, but Sam does!” He frowns when he realizes he’s really never gotten the full story on their relationship. Friendship. Or whatever. “All I know is Jess seems to have some kind of problem with her.”

 

They all frown at that. Jess is a levelheaded girl and gets along with most everybody. Dean volunteers to ask Sam about Ruby again and they all agree to keep it quiet for a few more days.

 

Christmas is nearly on them and there’s a fresh blanket of powdery snow on the ground when Dean leaves Bobby’s cabin. It’s not quite cold enough for it to stick for long, will probably melt by morning, but Dean likes the snow. He likes it when The Compound is covered in the stuff and Ellen somehow makes enough hot apple cider for everyone.

 

He and Charlie once likened the snowy Compound to the rebel base on Hoth in _The Empire Strikes Back_ and Dean secretly loves that. Loves that he can pretend, even for the slightest moment, that his group of survivors are like those rebels. The ones that didn’t have a chance in hell but somehow still managed to overthrow an empire. Dean knows he and his rebels have no such happy ending, but if he puts a little Han Solo swagger in his step, well, no one’s the wiser.

 

Bounding up the steps to his cabin, he’s not paying attention and slams right into Benny, who’s apparently about to leave.

 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he jokes weakly as they step apart. “You going somewhere?”

 

Benny looks uncertain. “Well, I just thought you’d want the cabin to yourself for a bit...” he trails off.

 

And no, that’s not at all what Dean wants, and now’s a good a time as any for that apology. “Hey, no, stay.” He steps further into the cabin and motions for Benny to follow him.

 

“Look, I owe you an apology,” he starts, and then realizes that in all the time he knew he needed to do this, he never planned what to actually say. Great. “Um. I’ve been an ass, I know, and I’m sorry for that. Things have been kinda stressful lately and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

 

Is that enough for an apology? He’s really not sure and waits anxiously for Benny’s response.

 

Benny holds out a hand and says smiling, “Water under the bridge, brother. I could tell you had a lot on your plate, so don’t worry about me none.” Dean lets out a happy, relieved sigh and clasps Benny’s hand in return, feeling determined never to abuse Benny’s forgiving nature like that again.

 

They’ve passed the normal amount of time for a handshake, but Dean can’t find in himself to let go and he suspects Benny’s feeling the same. Benny turns his hand palm up, still holding Dean’s hand and he drags a light finger across Dean’s knuckles. “You have freckles here,” he says softly.

 

He’s still lightly stroking Dean’s skin and it’s the barest touch and Dean is squirming under his skin to get more, but he can’t move, watching entranced as Benny’s thick fingers wonderingly count the spots that Dean’s always ignored.

 

“You owe me a question, by the way,” he murmurs.

 

“I do?” Dean asks, surprised. He’s trying to think back to before he was being an asshole and ignoring Benny what the last question he asked him was. He wants to melt into the floor when he realizes it was about his favorite sexual position. “Oh,” he says weakly. “I guess I do. What is it then?”

 

He looks up to see Benny watching his face, not his hands, and he hears Benny say, “I wanted to know... May I kiss you?”

 

Not only was that the politest request Dean’s ever gotten, but he’s more than happy to answer. He wraps his arms around Benny, internally groaning at the feel of solid muscle and warm skin, and pulls him into a kiss.

 

It’s softer than they both expected, searching and curious. When they part, Benny’s eyes are wide and Dean pulls him closer again, murmuring against his mouth, “My turn. Will you kiss me again?”

 

This time it’s heated and Dean swipes his tongue against Benny’s bottom lip, both of them groaning when he opens and all Dean can think of is the wet heat of Benny’s mouth, the taste of him. He’s not too proud to say that when Benny sucks on first his bottom lip and then his tongue when he opens to exhale his legs don’t feel like they’re holding him up very well.

 

“Been wanting to do this for so long, Dean,” Benny breathes against his mouth, nipping his top lip to punctuate it.

 

They keep kissing and muttering similar sentiments to each other over and over, stripping off one layer of clothes at a time. Dean’s down to an undershirt and his boxers, while Benny’s chest is gloriously bare and Dean can’t help but lean to nose through his dark hair, brushing the tip of his nose against a nipple.

 

“Cold!” Benny jumps and laughs at him. He cards his hands through Dean’s hair and brings him back to his chest. This time Dean makes his tongue soft and wet and mouths at the little peak until it’s stiff and pebbled and Benny’s whispering, “ _Merde_ ” almost reverently.

 

Dean sinks to his knees and his jaw is already aching pleasantly with anticipation just looking at the bulge inside Benny’s pants. He quirks his eyebrow for permission and Benny’s nodding hard. “Please, honey.”

 

He unzips him and _goddamn_ , he’s beautiful. Dean says as much and Benny laughs, though it sounds strained and Dean knows he’s being a tease on his knees like this. He might play it up just a little knowing that.

 

“This what you want?” he whispers, letting his breath ghost over Benny’s cock. It’s perfect and thick, uncut and a prominent vein running up it. Dean’s mouth is absolutely watering and he smirks a little when he can see Benny’s powerful thighs clench and flex beside his head.

 

“ _Cher_ , _cher_ ,” he pleads, his gently stroking hands tightening briefly in Dean’s hair.

 

Dean knows what a pretty picture he makes right now, lets his tongue dart out and roll slowly against Benny’s flushed head. He glances up from beneath his lashes to see Benny panting open mouthed and trying hard to keep his control. But Dean’s not quite finished playing yet.

 

He kitten-licks his way up and down, stopping briefly to suckle his balls into his mouth and thoroughly relishing the sounds Benny makes. He finally takes pity and sinks his mouth down, down on to his cock and he’s surprised how hard he has to work. He’d really only ever done this with Victor, who was considerably less thick but probably a little longer than Benny, and he’s done thinking about Victor right now because Dean’s jaws are starting to ache and it’s glorious. He feels the saliva running down his chin and the tears collecting in the corners of his eyes.

 

Dean pulls back to jack him off, mostly to give his mouth a break though he doesn’t stop his running commentary.

 

“Thought about this. Thought about you and how much I wanted you. You gonna come?” He asks the latter because Benny’s thighs are shaking and he’s murmuring a near constant stream of what Dean guesses is French. He was taking seventh grade Spanish and barely passing that, so his knowledge French is extremely limited. Maybe Benny will teach him some.

 

He’s not ashamed to say that hearing the words fall from Benny’s mouth is a huge turn on. And it is. He’s hard in his underwear, getting harder with every word and sound, and aching for relief.

 

Benny nods his head and Dean grabs him tight, makes a ring with his fingers at the base and says, “No, not yet.” Benny’s deep pained groan makes him smile, but he really wants to get in on this before it’s all over.

 

He stands and pulls Benny to his bed, chuckling when the both nearly trip over their boxers around their ankles, though he stops when he falls backward and Benny falls on top of him.

 

Just how he pictured it when Benny first moved in. They kiss, slow, deep, and Dean moans into Benny’s mouth when he feels his cock rub against his. “This,” he groans. “Can we do this?”

 

Benny levers himself up enough to kiss Dean’s forehead, then his closed eyelids, and then his pouting lips. “Anything you want, _cher_.”

 

They grind together, Dean wrapping his lower legs around Benny’s and trying to hold back every moan he feels clawing at his throat. When he tilts his head back against the pillow, Benny nips, bites, sucks his way down Dean’s neck and his beard tickles and burns.

 

When he comes, Dean smashes his mouth against Benny’s to cover his shout, but Benny gentles it into a sweet, thorough kiss. He gasps suddenly as he comes a few moments later and Dean feels an overwhelming headrush when Benny sucks the air from his own lungs and his chest burns and head spins, tearing his mouth away to greedily gasp for air.

 

“Wow,” he croaks intelligently, as they come down from their highs. Benny starts to slide off of him but his reflexes are still working enough to catch him. “Whoa, don’t fall!”

 

Benny glances over his shoulder and he is indeed at the very edge of the very tiny bed. “I don’t think these beds were made for grown men,” he says seriously.

 

Dean cracks a tiny smile at that. “No, they weren’t, but we’ll make it work.” They both turn on their sides, Dean’s back to Benny’s chest and he spends the rest of the night learning how much he loves being the little spoon.

 

***

He wakes the next morning alone and yeah, that kinda hurts. Dean sits up to scrub a hand over his face, wiping the sleep from his eyes, and only then notices the scrap of paper on the pillow.

 

_Come find me at breakfast._

 

He feels a little foolish. Right, of course. Benny has to work during meal times. Speaking of which, he’s going to miss breakfast now and really, that’s just a terrible way to start the day.

 

Ellen gives him a look when he rushes into the mess hall later than anyone else. “No breakfast for those who do not get up on time, leader or not” she reminds him, brandishing a spatula.

 

“But Ellen,” he wheedles. He’s actually really hungry and Benny wore him out last night, not that he would ever tell her that last part. He’s pleading with his best puppy eyes, though he knows they don’t come close to Sam’s, when Benny quietly appears by his side with a plate full of food.

 

“Thought you might be late,” he winks teasingly, but then softens into a smile. Dean accepts the plate and kisses Benny’s cheek in thanks. Then he finds a table facing the kitchen so he can see Benny flush surprised and pleased, and Ellen just flush.

 

He finishes eating within minutes, but decides to hang out until Benny’s done with cleanup and Ellen releases him from his morning job. He’s folding his napkin into a football when he spots Ruby dart in through the door and look around in dismay. He waves her over and notes that she appears to be incredibly uncomfortable that he spotted her.

 

“How’s it going, Ruby?” he asks breezily, though watching her carefully. They never did cross her off their list and now’s as good a time as any to talk to her. “I’m sorry I haven’t really gotten to know you since you got here, but I hear Sam’s been doing a better job of that.”

 

“It’s good, and uh, don’t worry about it, Dean. I know you’re a busy guy.” She watches him fold the napkin for a moment before standing suddenly. “Sorry, but I should go.” And she’s gone before Dean can even say, “See you”.

 

“Waiting for me?”

 

Dean forgets all about Ruby as he turns around to face Benny. He stands and slips his arms around his waist, presses a quick kiss to his lips. Benny chuckles.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothin’. Just thought you’d be different, somehow. That you’d ask me to hide this.” He gestures between them, and Dean grabs his hand mid-air.

 

He frowns and presses two more small kisses against Benny’s pink mouth. “Honestly? I think we all know how short life is, you know? And no one here gives anyone any trouble. Well,” he amends, “actually, Gordon might be annoyed, but he’s always got a stick up his ass about something, so don’t worry about him. I’d be more concerned if he _wasn’t_ a grouch.”

 

“Wasn’t gonna,” Benny says and kisses Dean so thoroughly, it takes Ellen smacking their heads to stop.

 

“Not in my mess hall, you don’t. Find somewhere else.”

 

Dean thinks he overhears her whisper to Benny, “You take care of him, you hear me?” but he might have imagined it. He probably did.

 

The chill of December bites at them once they’re outside. Dean takes hold of Benny’s hand and tugs him around to the back of the building. “Come with me.”

 

“Don’t you have things to do? Leader-type things?”

 

Dean pauses for a moment. “Well, probably. But right now, I really just wanna make out with you, if you don’t mind.”

 

“No complaints here, _mon cher_.”

 

***

True to his prediction, Gordon was the only one who had any sort of issue with him and Benny, and even then it was a pretty weak protest. Everyone else either gave heartfelt congratulations that Dean finally pulled his head out of his ass or some variation of “Well, it’s about time.”

 

Both made his cheeks turn red.

 

“I like it when you blush,” Benny said one night, pausing the obscene noises he was making around Dean’s cock. He wiped his mouth and jacked Dean off slowly. “Your cheeks turn pink and your freckles stand out. Love your freckles, _cher_.” After that he had his mouth full of Dean and Dean came down his throat minutes later with a moan.

 

Dean forgot all about Ruby and the leak and, honestly, just about everything else.

 

***

Finally, Christmas made its yearly appearance. It’s never been a big deal in The Compound, everyone really preferring New Years as the holiday to celebrate, but after Ellen’s traditional Christmas hot chocolate, he and Benny sneak out of the mess hall.

 

“Dean, it’s freezing out here! Where are we going?”

 

“Don’t be such a grump,” is all Dean would say in response. The cold air nips at his ears and nose, but he doesn’t mind at all. He feels giddy for some reason, being alone out here with Benny, and he can still taste hot chocolate on his tongue and wonders if Benny tastes chocolatey, too. He intends to find out very soon though.

 

He leads them around the lake and wonders if Benny recognizes where they’re going. It’s been a while, but he likes to think it made a good impression.

 

“Ta-da,” he says quietly, fingers crossed for luck by his side. Ever since the moratorium on supply runs, things had been a little sparse this Christmas. No one exchanged presents, even handmade ones, this year, but Dean, however, found a little way around that.

 

Dean had found some spare blankets, thick and soft, and made a nest in the backseat of the Impala a little earlier. It’s still damn cold, but as Benny gets with the program, they figure out how to generate their own heat.

 

It’s a very tight squeeze for two above average size men, and more than once Dean bumps his head on the roof or the window. “Son of a bitch,” he complains.

 

Benny laughs softly at him and pulls him into his lap. He’s sitting in the middle of the backseat and now Dean’s knees are on either side of his hips, sliding on the leather. Benny wraps one of the blankets around Dean’s shoulders, creating a cozy cocoon around them and he kisses Dean.

 

“Wasn’t one of my better ideas,” Dean admits. “But I wanted to do something.”

 

“It’s perfect, _mon cœur_ ,” he shushes. “I didn’t get you anything, though.”

 

“Doesn’t matter. Hey,” he pushes back a little to sit on Benny’s knees. “You should teach me French. That can be your present to me.”

 

“French?” Dean can tell he wasn’t expecting that and he laughs a little.

 

“I like it when you talk in French to me,” he shrugs, aiming for nonchalant. Guessing by Benny’s knowing grin, he didn’t quite achieve it.

 

“ _Je te veux vraiment_ ,” Benny murmurs against his cheek, pulling him close again, sharing the same breath.

 

“What’s that mean?” he manages, before catching Benny’s lips with his again.

 

“ _Tu m’excites tant_ ,” he replies when Dean lets him go.

 

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Dean huffs between kisses. “We can work on translating later, what do you say?”

 

“Shhh,” Benny puts two fingers against his lips and Dean gets the idea pretty quick. 

 

They kiss and grind lazily against each other until they’re sweating and hot, despite the chilly weather. Benny still sprinkling French in between kisses and making Dean’s head feel warm. “Let’s go back, hmm?”

 

Dean nods and they untangle themselves only long enough to get out of the car before they’re pressed against each other’s sides and exchanging long kisses on the way back to their cabin.

 

Neither of them notices the eyes watching them in the woods, too wrapped up in each other.

 

***

Benny wakes Dean up early on New Years Day with a blowjob. “Mmm, what a good way to start the year,” he says, stretching slightly and yawning.

 

They’ve somewhat solved the problem of too small beds by discarding the frames to the back of the room and putting the mattresses together on the floor. At least this way, no one can accidentally fall off in the middle of the night.

 

Benny doesn’t answer, though, intent on sucking Dean’s brains out through his dick. He rears up suddenly though, leaving Dean blinking in confusion until he catches Benny’s eyes and he looks _wild_.

 

“Turn over,” he growls at Dean, who can’t repress his shiver and apparently doesn’t move fast enough. He grabs Dean’s leg and flips him over onto his belly, his legs instinctively parting to make room for Benny. “Wanted to do this,” he murmurs, pressing bites and nips into Dean’s shoulders and back. Dean has to cover his mouth when Benny lands two quick swats to his ass, even while he arches up for more.

 

He can’t see what Benny’s doing but he can feel him, kneading Dean’s ass cheeks and exposing his hole. He thinks he knows where this is going, thinks he’s prepared for it, until he’s not.

 

It’s not Benny’s fingers, it’s his _tongue_. Warm, wet muscle lapping over and over his clenching hole and Dean buries his face in the pillow under him to hide his moans. Every time he does though, Benny slaps his ass cheek and grabs it with bruising force, causing Dean to moan louder than the pillow can muffle.

 

“Benny, Benny, oh God. Oh, shit, Benny. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles incoherently. He’s bright red, he knows, as he pushes back for more and more. And Benny keeps giving it to him.

 

He’s _aggressive_ about it, never letting up, never giving Dean a break, until he’s covered in a sheen of sweat and twitching weakly. He can feel his thighs burning from the scratch of Benny’s beard and the pull in his lower back from arching up over and over again.

 

His center of balance shifts when Benny pulls his hips up and he blushes to know how open and loose and sloppy he is right now. He doesn’t even wince when Benny’s tongue spears him open and a thick finger soon joins. He’s already come once and Benny kept lapping and licking him through it and he’s boneless now, snuffling weak groans into his pillow, damp from tears and breathing heavily into it.

 

When Benny lets go of his hips, he collapses. He can hear Benny breathing hard and he just barely manages to move his head to the side. Benny’s warm body covers his and he shivers weakly.

 

“As good as I imagined, _cher_ ,” he whispers into Dean’s ear.

 

“Christ,” he croaks. “M’gonna sleep for a minute, ‘kay?”

 

He’s out before Benny can answer him, though he thinks he feels a kiss against his temple just before he drops out of consciousness altogether.

 

It’s early afternoon before he wakes again. Benny’s nowhere in sight, though he’s not surprised. Probably helping Ellen with lunch prep.

 

He’s sore like he’d been thoroughly fucked and he smiles to himself as he rolls over. And his good mood is ruined when Bobby bangs on the door so forcefully that it rattles in its hinges. “Get your lazy ass up, Dean!” he calls out, punctuating it with another fierce round of knocks on the door.

 

“Alright, alright! Just, uh, don’t open the door!”

 

“Wasn’t gonna,” he can hear Bobby mutter as he walks away. Dean waits until he can’t hear Bobby on the steps before he gets out of bed.

 

Ash is mostly amused and Bobby’s plain annoyed when Dean finally makes an appearance. To avoid actually talking about anything Benny-related, he gets right into it. “I talked to Ruby a while ago and she seemed off to me, but I don’t know her very well so that could just be her.”

 

They keep talking for a while, and eventually Cas comes in looking for Dean and they end up explaining the situation to him. Cas takes it pretty well, considering.

 

“I’ll look around, but things have seemed pretty quiet around here lately,” Cas says with a frown. “I’m not doubting you, it’s just that nothing’s really been going on.”

 

“Have any more papers gone missing, Bobby?”

 

Bobby takes his cap off and rubs his forehead. “No, but we’ve gotta figure out something soon. We’re already eating into the emergency supplies and people are not going to be happy. We have got to make supply runs again and soon.”

 

Ash pipes in, “Agreed. Very soon. We can make cut backs, but listen, man, we’re not going to have enough to last to February. There’s no way we can stretch what little we’ve got for that long.”

 

“Okay,” Dean sighs, taps his fingers against the table. “Okay, I’ll take Cas with me, and we’ll make a run. That good with you?”

 

Cas nods. “It might be better if we just go civilian and went to the grocery store. It’ll save some time and we can stock up on non-perishables and hopefully make it through the month on them.”

 

They all agree it’s the best plan and he and Cas end up leaving immediately. He lets Cas drive and he waves a little sadly to Benny as they pass by him coming out of the mess hall. Benny waves back confusedly, but they’re long past him before Dean can call out anything.

 

“I’m happy for you and Benny, Dean.” And that’s all Cas says about it.

 

The comment keeps him smiling until they get to town.

 

***

Things _are_ quiet around The Compound. Dean and Cas managed to sneak back enough canned goods to make sure they’d last the month at least, but without the missions and the raids, things are just eerily still.

 

Dean keeps waiting for something to happen and he’s constantly on edge, the phrase _the calm before the storm_ running through his mind at all waking hours.

 

It’s the day before his birthday and he’s got his head on Benny’s chest as they lie on their mattresses. “So, what do you want for your birthday, sugar?”

 

“Mmm, just you,” he replies, reaching up to nip playfully at Benny’s nose.

 

“You have me already,” he laughs into Dean’s hair. “What else?”

 

Dean stills and then pulls back to look at Benny. He rolls over and slides up Benny’s body like cat and whispers in his ear, “No, I want _you_.”

 

In an instant, they’re all over each other. Kissing, biting, tearing at each other’s clothes until Dean’s hovering over Benny on all fours and Benny’s hands are running up and down Dean’s sides. “And now?”

 

Dean kisses him, long and deep, until they’re both breathless and achingly hard between their legs. Dean knee-walks up until he’s lightly sitting on Benny’s chest and quirks a smile. Benny reaches for his cock, asking, “You wanna fuck my face, _cher_? That what you want?”

 

He shakes his head and moves further up until his knees are touching Benny’s ears and he’s got the front of his body against the wall. “No,” he murmurs. “This.”

 

Benny’s then clutching at his thighs fiercely and craning his head up to tongue at Dean’s ass and _God_ , but this might be Dean’s new favorite thing. He pulls back before he comes, shuffling back to kiss Benny. Recognizes the taste as himself and he kisses him until all he can taste is Benny.

 

“Fuck me,” he says, trailing kisses over Benny’s bearded face. “Please.”

 

Benny’s answering groan is enough and Dean reaches under his side of the mattress to pull out a small bottle of lube and a condom. He hadn’t even thought about it until he was in the grocery store and he passed by the shelf. Now he’s glad he did.

 

He pours enough lube to cover his fingers and he reaches around, still kneeling over Benny, and fingers himself open, still wet from Benny’s tongue. He knows he’s blushing, but he doesn’t try to hide it, can tell how much Benny likes seeing him like this.

 

Rolling the condom over Benny’s straining cock, he wipes the excess lube over it and then slowly, slowly sinks back. He feels the head pop in and he leans down for kisses as he works his way back onto his cock. It burns and he feels it stretching him open, but he likes it.

 

His ass is flush against Benny’s hips and he gives an experimental roll of his own hips. They both groan and Dean’s riding him in earnest. He sits up and lets his thighs burn and ache as he uses them to push and pull his body on Benny’s cock. When Benny reaches up with one hand to pinch and roll Dean’s nipple and the other goes to his cock.

 

It’s almost too much, but not enough at the same time and Benny rolls them over and begins driving into Dean, hitching his legs higher on his hips and it changes the angle perfectly. Dean can’t keep down his moaning, “oh, _fuck_ ” and Benny aims for that spot over and over.

 

He gets a hand around his cock and manages three strokes before he’s coming hard, striping his chest and belly with come. Benny keeps thrusting into him and pulling at his spent cock until he’s squirming and tearing up at the overstimulation. “Too –“ he gasps, “too much!” Benny comes then with a powerful bite to the junction between his shoulder and neck and Dean looks forward to the fact he’s going to have a hell of a bruise there.

 

Benny pulls out carefully after a minute, ties the condom off, and tosses it over the mattress side. He pulls Dean close to him, peppering his face with kisses and stroking his sweat-cooled body. “So beautiful, Dean. Perfect. _Parfait_ ,” he keeps murmuring against Dean’s skin.

 

They fall asleep wrapped up in each other.

 

Maybe four or five hours later, someone is knocking on their door. Dean wakes with a start and is already pulling on jeans and looking for a shirt as he calls out, “Yeah? Who is it?”

 

“It’s Jess!” She sounds panicked and Dean calls for her to come in, worry starting to creep into the edges of his mind.

 

He and Benny are both partially dressed as Jess rushes in and all Dean can understand is, “He’s not here.”

 

He grabs her shoulders and tries to get her attention, her eyes red and puffy. She looks so young in her tiny Smurfs shirt and even tinier shorts. “Jess! Who’s not here?”

 

“Sam!”

 

Dean can’t breathe, can’t think beyond _Sam, Sam, Sammy, oh my God. Sam, where are you?_

 

Benny’s soothing and shushing Jess when he becomes aware again, turning around to yell, “Damnit, Jess! Where is he?”

 

Benny gives him a look that clearly says _not helping_ and he tries to rein in the panic. “Jess,” he says, pulling deep breaths through his nose. “Jess, where is my brother?”

 

Through tears and hiccupping breaths, they figure out that Sam and Ruby had been on guard duty earlier tonight, but neither of them had come back when their shift was over.

 

“We need to find them. Now!” Dean’s full out panicking now, and he runs to Bobby’s cabin as he’s yelling for Jess and Benny to wake everyone else. “Bobby! Bobby!”

 

Bobby comes out with a shotgun in a ratty t-shirt and flannel sleep pants. “The hell’s goin’ on here? Dean?”

 

“It’s Sam. He’s missing, along with that girl, Ruby.” Dean’s not even sure he’s speaking clearly and from Bobby’s face, he might not be.

 

Dean whirls around and finds Jess, drags her over to Bobby and barks, “Tell him!”

 

Everyone in The Compound is awake by now. Some are dressed in pajamas, others are in full gear and holding guns or knives. The sun’s just starting to come up and glows pink on everyone’s skin.

 

“Okay, listen up!” Dean yells, standing on the steps of the cabin. “Sam and Ruby are missing. Who’s the last person to see or talk to them?”

 

Jo steps forward with an absolutely stricken look on her face. “I think I know where they are.”

 

***

Jo tells Dean, Bobby, Victor, and Cas that Ruby had been talking with Sam about her family a lot. “I mean, I never heard what exactly was happening, but she seemed to think her family was still out there in town. And Sam...” she hangs her head. “Sam said he’d help her in any way that he could.”

 

Dean curses loudly. He catches Benny’s eye as he’s rounding up some of the other people off to the side, calming everyone down with his quiet words. Dean motions him over and Benny comes jogging up.

 

“Ruby, did she ever talk to you? What do you know about her?”

 

He frowns and scratches at his beard. “She started working for Sophia maybe a month after I’d gotten there? Quiet, though. Kept to herself mostly.” He’s racking his brain, Dean can tell but it’s not enough. There has to be more.

 

“Did she ever mention anything about her family?”

 

Benny starts to shake his head and then stops. “She did once. Father and... a sister? Maybe?”

 

“Dean! Dean!” It’s Sam running and dodging people, headed straight for Dean and Dean sprints to him.

 

“Sammy, what the fuck! Where have you been?”

 

“Dean, there’s no time! They’re coming!” He turns around wildly and yells, “Listen to me! They are COMING!”

 

“How long? How long, Sam?” People are starting to panic and Dean’s not far behind.

 

“Fuck! Dean! _Minutes_! They were leading me and Ruby back here and I knocked one out and ran down a shortcut. Jesus, Dean, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 

Gunfire rings out and then a scream. Everyone freezes. “Oh my God,” Dean whispers.

 

***

There were only about twenty Leviathan in the end, though it was more than enough.

 

People were panicking and screaming as they rounded the corner, heads reared back, forked tongues slithering in the air. Dean was frozen for a split second and then ran at them, screaming at everyone to _fucking fight!_

 

It was all that was needed and more and more Leviathan heads were rolling across the ground. Just not fast enough.

 

Dean watched horrified as a Leviathan tore into Ruby from an odd angle before Victor took it out. She dropped heavily with a _thud_ and Dean was fighting again.

 

It seemed never-ending at the time, though it probably lasted no more than fifteen minutes in total. At the end of it all, Dean’s arms are shaking and he’s covered in Leviathan bits and chunks.

 

What most people don’t know is that Leviathan have an awful smell. A thick, oily, rancid smell that now permeates The Compound and the black goo of their innards drips from nearly everyone’s hands and faces.

 

Dean kneels down next to Ruby, grimacing at the gaping tear through her midsection. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, blood already pooling at the corners of her mouth. “They said if –“ she coughs hard and Dean eases a hand under her head.

 

“What did they say?” he urges.  

 

“If I gave them information, they’d let my family go.” A choking sob rips through her. “They were dead – this whole time! I’m so sorry, Dean. I really am.”

 

Dean nods at her and keeps nodding like his neck is spring-loaded, even when her eyes go still and glassy. He feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up at Benny.

 

He takes the offered hand and doesn’t let go. “We can’t stay here,” he tells Benny. “They’ll be back. With more next time.” He lifts the hem of his shirt with a hand and wipes his face, coughing in disgust when it comes away black and wet.

 

“I know.” He squeezes Dean’s hand, reassuring. Steady. An anchor. Dean feels a flash of gratefulness and squeezes back, before it’s all overwhelmed by _danger, blood, death, leave, leave now._  

 

No one says anything when Dean announces that they need to pack lightly and be prepared to leave in ten minutes. He thinks, he _hopes_ they’ll be safer in the mountains. He tries to shake off the doubts and panic, tries to think clearly. He’s still their leader. Time to be brave, time to take control. “Wear layers, guys. We’re going west,” he tells them all a little grimly. Going west and higher up.

 

“Dean, I’m – “

 

“I know, Sam. Just, not right now, okay? Go pack. We’ve gotta move.”

 

Sam nods miserably and turns to leave. Dean lets go of Benny’s hand to catch up to him. “Sammy.”

 

Sam stops with his back still turned and Dean can tell he’s wiping his eyes, but he steps in front of him anyway. Hugs him long and hard. “It’s not your fault, Sammy. You were trying to do the right thing, I know. I know.” Sam sniffs hard and brings a hand up behind Dean’s shoulder to rub at his face. “Bring your good coat, okay? Gonna get cold.”

 

Dean lets him go and everyone has cleared out when he turns around again. Benny comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Dean’s chest, kisses the shell of his ear. “Time to go,” he says quietly.

 

Everyone’s gathered outside Dean and Benny’s cabin when they emerge again, bags slung over their shoulders. Dean had cried for a few minutes before stepping out the door, leaving behind yet another home, with its stars on the ceiling and the Impala rusting away out in the woods, and Benny held him through it all.

 

Nearly everyone is crying when they make it to the small porch of their cabin. Victor’s holding Ellen and Jo under his arms, Bobby looks pale and shaken as he holds a firm hand on Sam’s shoulder, who’s holding onto a weeping Jess. Charlie and Gilda are wrapped up tight together, tears streaming as they cling to a wet-eyed Cas. Lisa and Ben sway forlornly against each other.

 

He searches for Ash and Gordon in the crowd and realizes they were on guard duty this morning. The two of them probably saved a few precious minutes for everyone and Dean bows his head, feeling the guilt and regret warring inside him.

 

Benny reaches for his hand and they look at each other before Dean looks out at the survivors, his family. “We’re gonna be okay,” he tells them all. “We’re gonna be okay.” And maybe, just a little, he believes it, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Dean's not the only one who doesn't speak French! These translations were made entirely through Google, so I'm sure they're not 100% accurate. Sorry about that!  
>  _Merde_ \- Shit/Damn  
>  _Cher_ \- Dear  
>  _Je te veux vraiment_ \- I really want you  
>  _Tu m’excites tant_ \- You turn me on


End file.
